The Price of a Change
by wiltheavatar
Summary: The war had been going badly for Harry, but as he was offered a deal by a shadow to trade for time, he took it to change the war, but was it worth it? Was it worth selling his own destiny to this "higher being," spiraling his destiny into the unknown?
1. Hell in Disguise

Chapter 1: Hell in Disguise

* * *

_"Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape."_  
_ -William S. Burroughs_

* * *

The battle was going badly and he knew it. All the tricks of survival he had learned through experience became utterly useless when fighting on a plain with almost no cover. The moment they were ambushed after touchdown, he knew all was lost. They were sitting ducks, surrounded and besieged, no visual contact with the enemy unless you count the deathly green rays that were lobbed at the group. Two new recruits were gunned down within the first minute of this so called "battle," but "massacre" was more like the term to describe this fight. The remaining seven Order members surrounded him, amongst them only Moody had seen any action prior to this confrontation, their chances for survival were slim. Green lights were lobbed from both sides, the restrictions for dark spells long forgotten throughout the course of the war, each side fighting simply to survive, they'd do anything to live, even if it meant corrupting their own souls with dark spells.

Harry surveyed the surrounding, he knew the chances, if he lived through this, he'd seriously have to thank God. The Order's defensive circle was barely evident, each man cowering behind a conjured shield, each men but Moody, who only conjured bronze shields to block the deathly green arcs as he fired off curses of his own. They had perhaps three minutes before they could run, mainly because the wards set up were power consuming unless using lodestones, but the Order had checked this area not long ago, not enough time to set up a more permanent ward. "Avada Kedevra," he shouted at the nearest glint of silver under the evening sun, following his curse, he unleashed a wave of fiendfyre that devoured everything in its way.

The sun was setting, a huge globe of fire as the Order members hid and fired blindly, shuffling around behind their shields to avoid stray curses, lobbing back any offensive spells they remember, who cares if it is dark, there is no ministry anyways. "The wards are weakening, have faith lads," Moody's raspy voice rang through the group, inspiring the rest to fight back with renewed strength. It is true, the pressure these wizards originally felt within the wards are lighting up, whoever that casted this spell must be getting tired, "Defend lads, don't let those shits scare you, in a few seconds we run, focus on staying alive, focus lads, Fight," he shouted and inspired hope. New rounds of spell fire was exchanged, a few screams on the other side was evidence that they had hit somebody.

Harry looked at the orange sun, he really wished he'd live another day, not htat there was anyone waiting for him at home, for Hermione, Ron, and several other closer friends all died throughout the course of three years. Yes, three years the war as raged, he didn't even bother knowing what date it is, but he counted time by seasons. It had been two winters since the war started, it's currently summer, and Hermione and Ron died together last summer in the "Burrows Raid," Fred died last fall and George committed suicide not long after. Ginny's body was found this spring, the details are gruesome, but unforgivable things had been done to her. The past three years had been extremely taxing, the fighters of the Order dying left and right, the recruits being pretty useless, only Moody and McGonagall had been left from the original order. Remus Lupin had been missing for almost two seasons now but at least Snape is actively supporting the Order, thank God, at least another great duelist is on the same team.

The Weasley clan had been effectively wiped out, or at least the part Harry had been familiar with, the last one surviving had been Percy who joined the Death Eaters with many other ministry members. Even so, Harry had put him out of commission with an Avada in the face during a confrontation a season or so ago.

He felt the weight lighten with great relief and with a crack, apparated out o fhte merciless slaughter with the five surviving Order members along with Mad-Eye Moody.

* * *

They arrived at their headquarters "Shell Cottage," after Grimmauld Place 12 had been compromised during "The Great Fall" three summers ago, Shell Cottage had been its replacement, but only as a meeting place. Shell Cottage itself was protected by the same fidelius charm as Grimmauld Place, inscribed on a lodestone which remained after Bill's death last winter. Harry walked into the house, feeling the emptiness and lifelessness that surrounded since no one lived here, it was only a meeting place, somewhere to gather. He headed towards the floo at the age of the far end of the rectangular living room, waiting in line as the survivors flooed to wherever they lived, or safe houses all over the country. It was finally his turn, grabbing the green powder, he spoke, "Hogwarts, Citadel of the Phoenix," and stepped quickly into the fireplace to be engulfed by green flames. The transport was as always, not exactly comfortable, but it does its job, the churning feelings he received whenever in the floo didn't agree with him, it never did, it probably never will. Within a minute he was staring into the office of the late Headmaster Dumbledore, and with a wave he disengaged all the traps, stepping out of the gargoyle to enter the school, what he saw here only made him sigh.

The castle itself was dark, a shell of its former self, no longer a school, but a castle made for war. After the term ended three years ago, the school never ran again, instead it became a citadel for the Order, with its seemingly unlimited supplies of food and its rooms, it became the perfect place to house an army. Also, the castle had been used for war before, so had been placed at a strategic point, hard to attack and easy to defend, along with the special wards imbued in the castle since the founder's time activated in times of war, it became an impregnable fortress. The fidelius charm was the last line of defense for the castle, the only entrance is the floo in the deceased headmaster's office, the one that is only linked to Shell Cottage due to some intense wards. The citadel was a safe-zone for light supporters and all had to take unbreakable oaths before being admitted to the castle in fear of rogue secret keepers like the late Peter Pettigrew.

Even though the castle itself had more than two hundred inhabitants, it lacked vitality. The atmosphere remained tense, the people were tired, tired of this war, and truthfully, so was Harry. This raging war had been going on for several years now, the Order engaging in guerrilla warfare harassing the well organized Death Eater and the rest of England, with most of the reserve army living throughout Europe and linked to Shell Cottage whenever needed. Voldemort never made it past the English Channel, never could, never will, he didn't think big enough, his army normally only won due to superior numbers, thus was not strong enough. He had almost no foreign support and the only reason he took Britain so easily was because he set up the stage, the conversion had begun years ago after the first war, he had the government working for him by his second rise. Fudge was a well paid pawn, selling his country out in return for large amounts of gold and an oath of safety. However, compared to the rest of Europe where being muggle-born was not a crime and were much more prepared than an incompetent government filled with bigoted leaders, Britain didn't stand a chance.

France and Bulgaria immediately pledged their allegiance to the Order, cutting off all trade with wizarding England, and offering sanctuaries for any light supporters in need of aid, they were the first safe-houses for the Order. Many other European countries followed suit, providing funds and supplies to fight a war, but funds and supplies only do so much, they needed more than supplies, the Phoenix needed manpower to revive, there was a serious lack of light wizards. To tell the truth, they weren't any more light than Death Eaters, lobbing Class A dark curses at each other, rules long forgotten, their only instinct was survival. However, they banded together for a single purpose, one, not many, their purpose was to strike down the snake head, kill that blasted Voldemort. However, even with the aid of foreign countries, the war was still in the dark's favor, his cohorts may not be strong individually, but "Together we are strong" is perfectly exhibited in how Death Eaters fight. Also, foreign governments cannot send in military intervention due to a ICW magic charter made way back that upholds sovereignty. The charter only allows sending in troops if the receiving government allows aid, seeing that wizarding England did not seem to have a government, the Order was left without many options for help.

He shuffled towards his room, one of the unused guest rooms which were mostly changed into private quarters for the core members of the Order, uttering a quick password he stumbled into his messy room, dead tired. There were things scattered all over the ground, tomes opened on the ground, pieces of parchments left and right mostly with notes scribbled on, maps pinned on the wall yet slowly dislodging from their original position. Half eaten plates and empty bottles were left on the floor, his sitting room in definition, was a war zone. With exhausted steps he edged to the door of his private quarters, jabbing his wand into a signature scanner and stumbling in as the door slid open. With a quick wave he banished his clothes and cleaned himself magically, dropping down with his wand still in hand.

He had learned never to sleep without his wand connected to him, it was a lesson he learned after the loss of the late Department of Magical Law Enforcement head Amelia Bones, who was abducted, tortured, and killed all because her wand was beneath her pillow. Even though the threat level in his own room was extremely small, he still found an urge to have battle instincts, it never hurts to be ready, "Constant Vigilance" as Moody would say.

Although he was generally busy, he still found time to visit the Room of Requirements every once in a while. It had been his greatest hope that he might find something useful in that room, and after destroying the last horcrux before "The Great Fall," he had been fascinated with the thousands of trinkets left in that room. From what he's seen the room is filled to the brim with magical instruments and artifacts, the only problem was that he didn't know how to use most of them, and it was unfortunate that none of them came with a instruction manual to explain what it is for. He really had his hopes up for the trinkets, he had read that magical items were much more potent than wizards therefore as long as he found something powerful and learned how to control it, it just might change the tide of the war. Yet he knew all this was fool's hope, he's never going to find a ring that will vaporize Voldemort and kill him, vaporize himself maybe, but vaporize Voldemort, not very likely.

Putting his hands on his chest he felt the ice cold surface of a pendant he wore. He had found it in the Room of Requirements months ago and had taken a liking for wearing it like a good luck charm, even so, he knew it was more likely to kill him than to bring him any luck. Even so, he liked it and felt reassured as he felt the cold touch of steel on his chest, with that last thought in his mind, Harry Potter went into the realm of dreams.


	2. A New Beginning

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

* * *

_"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."_

_-Seneca_

* * *

He was in another battle, damn, it's quite repetitive. The only difference was this time, he wasn't just losing, they were getting butchered like pigs in a slaughterhouse. It was a well-positioned raid, aside from the fact it ended in an ambush, the target was a small group of Death Eaters along with Voldemort himself, what a trade right? The Order member somewhat knew it was going to end up like it did, but they refused to acknowledge their own intelligence, they refused to acknowledge their knowledge. The moment they apparated into position, they knew they were dead. Fifty Order members including most of the core had come along on the raid, and when they arrived, they felt pressure. It wasn't just the tense atmosphere, it was the weight of death, the weight of a particular "One way apparition ward," they were trapped like ants in a pool about to be flooded. The moment Harry touched down, he knew he was dead.  
"Avada kedevra," a ray of mean green color sped across the plains, it embed itself right into a recruit's chest, ending his life. The first shots of this battle had been fired, it's now a full-out war, a war, as always, is an understatement.  
Without any options, the Order charged, "Head for the hill, kill all those little shits," Moody's raspy voice was heard in the pack, doing what he could to boost the morale. Unfortunately, he was only human, and as he turned his head, a streak of malevolent dark blue beam collided into him. Harry recognized that curse from a tome he had read and learned not long ago, "Sanguis Reverto" the curse was called, or the "blood reverse curse," a class A dark spell. It changes the blood current of the target, umm…which will cause the target's heart to explode due to the sudden change of pressure, and your body to blow apart due in a pile of blood and gore, like how Moody just blew up in a thousand pieces.  
"Shit," Harry muttered to himself as he watched one of the most experienced fighters on his side go down, noticing several angry green streaks speeding his way, he jabbed his wand into the air and conjured a steel shield to block the incoming killing curse. With another wave he transfigured the battered steel shield into several spikes which he banished towards the general direction of the enemy, several screams signified direct hits.  
For a while Harry's side seemed to be winning, effectively overpowering their enemies, killing them before dying. Rays of different colors were traded, lethal spells shot at each other, corpses flying left and right. In the space of seven minutes, only around twenty out of the original fifty were left, but the enemy fires remained strong. The Order was gaining up the hill, pushing upwards towards the enemy, mainly lobbing large area spells and conjuring boulders to fight those behind decent covers. Most of the Death Eaters only had one trick, the killing curse, and the Order had different spells in their arsenal, and Harry kept his tactic of banishing sharp objects which he found to be extremely effective.  
Ten minutes into the battle the Order was almost at the top, the enemy's suppressive fires were weakening, some sides almost stopping completely, the hill can be taken in a few more seconds. A stray curse caused Neville Longbottom to explode in a pool of blood as he approached the Death Eater's final line of defense, Su Li went down from a bone crushing curse, McGonagall had a hole punched through her resulting from a shield basher, evidently she didn't have a shield when the spell connected. Despite all these deaths, the Order remained strong, charging upwards, the vanguards passing the final defense line, just a few more seconds and they will attain victory, almost there, so they kept pushing.  
A minute passed, eleven minutes after the battle started, around ten men and women from the Order are left, Harry and the last of his forces touched down at the top of the hill. The platform of the hill was strewn with bodies, Death Eaters all around, all dead, life was good. One of the members sent of a tracking flare up into the sky in form of a Phoenix, a charm devised by the Weasley twins to counter the dark mark. The spell will inform the headquarters of their position, allowing reinforcements to arrive, they captured a point and were determined to keep it. Several cracks were heard as Order members arrived at the battlefield, an additional twenty or so soldiers, a good number for holding a fort. "What's the situation?" Snape asked without any emotions in his voice, but inside he was devastated, 'this was a massacre,' he thought to himself.  
No one replied, no one knew how to, after several seconds of silence, Harry finally spoke, "Around ten or so from the initial expedition team is left, McGonagall and Moody both killed," He had seen death many times now, but never like this. This battle was a complete defeat, the loss was just, terrible, the phoenix may never rise from its ashes of this victory, it simply cost them too much.  
What they failed to realize was that the ward never lifted, in essence, they were still trapped, but basking in the lights of this "victory," it was normal to forget such a minor detail, if only it was a minor detail.  
"Morsmorde," a shout was heard in a distance below, then again, again, and again. Dozen of skulls appeared in the sky with snakes slithering out of its jaws, this many, not good at all, not good at all.  
Harry had expected an attack, but not this soon, and definitely not this large scale, the number right now, it was basically a bad joke. His forces were not ready, he himself was barely able to cast, his magic spent on the previous attack. "Retreat…run for your lives," he shouted at his team, and as he tried to apparate, he suddenly was aware of the heavy atmosphere, "Shit," he uttered to himself, they were trapped.  
The rest of the Order also tried to run, but found that they couldn't. They tried to hide, but realized that the last act of the Death Eaters were to destroy all potential cover, and on an elevated ground without cover made them completely vulnerable. The first barrage arrived only moments after Harry shouted the retreat signal, the faster and more potent members had already conjured slabs of earth to protect them, but the lesser wizards were simply skewered by the incoming spells. "We must destroy the lodestones, drop the ward," Snape yelled with hints of fear, panic, despair, he knew this may as well be his last battle.  
"Terra Curator," Harry shouted as he jabbed his wand into the ground and channeled his magic. The ground pulsed with his magic and reacted by lifting a circular shield of earth to block the incoming spells, sparing for them some time as they re-continued lobbing spells and boulders blindly at the enemy.  
"You okay there?" Snape asked in concern. Despite the past differences both party had experienced, fighting together through life-and-death situations tend to make people friends.  
"Give me a moment," Harry managed to reply despite being completely winded. He had used a vast quantity of magic already, from the earlier battle to this huge elemental spell, it was taking a lot out of him.  
"Don't push yourself too hard."  
He stood up, almost stumbling, "No, we need to continue fighting." Each step he took as unstable, exerting this amount of magic in so little time is quite exhausting.  
Shield smashers rammed into the earthen barricade, although not strong enough to tumble the wall so fast, with this many striking at the same time, the wall will eventually fall. "It's not gonna hold," Harry shouted as everyone got into battle positions with tired expression. "Ready…" He needn't shout everyone was ready, ready to fight, not ready to die just yet, they had vigorous gazes, they were keen on living through. "Now," Harry jabbed his wand into the nearest surface of the wall, shattering it into many smaller pieces as it rained onto the enemy, causing them to retreat momentarily. "Charge…" He screamed, sending in a multiple-point piercing spell which split off after traveling several feet from his wand tip. These piercing curses staked through enemy wizards, but even this was not enough.  
He was losing completely, he caught sight of Snape taking an Avada in the back, with a turn he saw Colins being skewered by several different spells at once, this was despair. This was chaos, how was he going to survive? Is he going to survive?  
He felt a cold sensation on his chest, but ignored it as he screamed, "Fultamonia," sending off bolts of lightning at the swarm of Death Eaters around him. Many were killed, but more appeared. He drew a complex rigged symbol in the air and jabbed his wand into it, forcing his magic to activate the symbol, sending a beam of magic in a row at the enemy, but as he killed one, another would take its place. This was impossible, it was like fighting a hydra, once one is cut down, it is replaced with two. He felt the coldness again, but couldn't comprehend what it was, then again, then again. It was not comprehensible, than the next second, the battle stopped.  
Technically, the battle didn't stop. Not really, but Harry was encased in a cocoon of magic. Enveloping him, separating him from the raging battle. 'Do you wish for a change?' This voice drove deep into his heart, it held no emotions, no, nothing special, just a voice, just like how you would hear the intercom speak, a lifeless mechanical voice.  
Harry turned, but there was no one there, he was still encased in magic, and there was not even a shadow of anyone else in here with him, but why can he still hear this voice? "Who are you…" He shouted at nothing, in this nothingness, "Who are you, show yourself…" There was no reply, only silence, just silence.  
'Do you wish to change?' It was the same question, the same voice asking, the coldness on his chest, touching it he realized it was his pendant. The same cold voice echoed in his mind, echoed in his heart, echoed in his soul, 'Do you wish to change?'  
Harry was confused having this conversation with seemingly, nothing, but it seemed like an opportunity to change, and he needed to change, he will play, he will take every change to change this nonsense. "Can I?"  
It felt as the voice chuckled, although it was unheard, there was this feeling, 'As long as the price is paid, we can make a deal.'  
"For what?" Harry asked, deal? Not good, most deals tended to be bad for those who asked for it, but it doesn't hurt to know.  
'Time,' there was the same feeling, the chuckle that is unheard, 'I sell time you desperately need.'  
"Time?" He repeated dumbly, this was the last thing he had in mind, maybe power, but time? But with time, the possibilities are limitless, having power may win him the battle, but not the war, but if he could fight from the beginning, end the war before it started, use time, then maybe, just maybe, this war could be won.  
'Yes, time, years, more accurately, the past.'  
"How?"  
'That's not for you to know, but I will tell you it requires a price to be paid, and me using magic to turn back time.'  
"Price?" He definitely didn't like the sound of it.  
'Nothing serious, just a little bit of this, a little bit of that, this man's soul, that woman's soul, nothing you can't pay.' There was a flicker, a shadow slowly appeared. Flickering into existence from wherever it came from. Then he saw it, it was a projection from the pendant. It was the shape of a man, but more than a man, a twisting mass of darkness behind a man, that thing was more than a man, much more, just an unspeakable horror.  
"But I only have one." Harry exclaimed, "What can I buy with one soul?"  
Despite it's almost corporeal form, it still spoke in his mind. 'No, I don't want your soul…'  
"I don't understand."  
'I cannot take your soul, it had already been claimed by fate, by destiny, until you break this chain on your heart, I cannot take it, and I still will not." It paused for a moment, opening its mouth, showing the rows and rows of sharp teeth, going deep into a abyss, one that would never had fit in that tiny flickering head. 'Your friend's souls are not as protected.'  
Harry almost puked at the idea, "You want me to sell my friend's souls for time?" He asked in disbelief.  
'Glad we're on the same page.'  
Harry pondered, if I reject, they'll probably die, if I don't, maybe I can save them in the future. "How much time?"  
The shadow glanced around at the raging battle, 'You have ten people left, so ten years, oops…never mind, that's one down, nine, nope, eight, that's another one down, seven…"  
"Six," Harry screamed in exasperation, "Six years, put me back in my fourth year…" He screamed fast, wishing he had enough chips to bargain, selling his comrades souls scared him, but frankly, it's the only way to win.  
The battle around them stood still, no one moved, the jets of light all stopped in midair, it was as if everyone suddenly died. Like time suddenly stopped, and indeed time did stopped. 'We have ourselves a deal,' the shadow said, pulling out a roll of smoke which solidified into a parchment, a contract. 'The contract needs to be signed,' it explained, its tone failed to hide the eagerness in its voice.  
Harry glanced through the contract, it was short, specific, and straightforward. It basically states that in return for six souls, Harry James Potter will be transported to the exact moment as of now six years ago. "How do I sign the contract?" He asked after he was satisfied with the contract. In truth, this transaction was simple, the thing being traded is not simple, soul and time, but the transaction itself was straightforward, no hidden clauses, no special wording, nothing, just a direct trade.  
'A little blood solves everything,' Harry noticed that the shadow seems to like talking in riddles, its excitement was quite evident, such eagerness, Harry can't imagine what would happen to these souls.  
He drew an enchanted pocket-knife he always carried with him, and made a shallow slice on his thumb, waiting a while before the blood accumulated enough to drop. "Plat," the sound as his blood dripped onto the parchment, immediately becoming his normal, messy signature, but instead of being written in black ink, it was written in red, in blood, more specifically, his own blood.  
It grinned, showing its rows of bladed teeth, 'Nice doing business with you.' It raised its hand, and all Harry felt was coldness, the sensation of being brushed with ice, this chill. It grew colder and colder, till it became painfully cold, the shadow looked at him, still grinning. With a snap, everything was black.

* * *

A/N:

I'm actually extremely sorry its so short, I actually had a much longer chapter planned out, but seeing that it's actually a decent place to end the chapter without smashing everything together, I decided to end it right there. This wasn't even half of what was planned, but I think it works just fine.


	3. Changes at Dawn

Chapter 3: Changes at Dawn

* * *

"_Change is the essence of willing to surrender what you are for what you could become."_

_-Unknown_

* * *

"Harry...Harry...HARRY..." he jolted awake at the sharp shout near his ears, then sank back into the seat of Hogwarts Express due to the sudden pain that overloaded his senses.

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione, you don't have to shout." His face was twisted in grimace as he rubbed his ears to get back into working condition. Hermione had a smug grin on her face which pissed him off. "Sod off, 'Mione," he said tiredly, god his body is in pain.

Hermione started ranting at being put off by her best friend, to tell the truth, he wasn't really interested in her rants. During the war, he had lots of time to reevaluate his friendships, he simply drifted apart from them. He had seen how Hermione always ranted (like now) and how Ron ended up being somewhat of a jealous prat, thus his friendship with them simply died, he asked for less from his companions, and they pretty much ignored them. Notice how Harry wasn't at the Burrows during its fall? They had a pretty big fallout concerning war loots, which supported his jealousy theory.

True, when they both died, he still mourned since they were some of his only friends, but he knew, if he had the chance like he did now, Malfoy might actually be a better ally. He had been instrumental in the earlier successes of the war, well, up till he died, which wasn't exactly beneficial. "Are you even listening to me Harry?" She demanded, god he hates being demanded, war really changed him. Before, he would have put up with Hermione's rant and demands simply because she was one of his two only frineds, but now he just wasn't interested, war made him stronger, made him braver, and more individual.

"Leave me alone, 'Mione." Hermione obviously didn't liek being ignored and just continued.

"As I was saying, house elves should have rights as well..." Harry didn't care about her SPEW crap, for someone who just got back from a war, he deserved some rest.

He decided to try talking sense into her, but knew it was probably futile, that girl is stubborn, extremely stubborn, like a rock. "There's no need for your SPEW crap, the elves like working."

She looked like someone just slammed a door in her face, highly insulted, "I don't see you reading up on the histories of house elves, if you did however, you would have seen that the elf king in A.D. 1135 after the 'Great Clash' sold all his people into slavery to ensure their survival." She cleared her throat as if everyone in the compartment was supposed to listen to her stupid lecture, "As I was saying, the elves were not meant to be treated like dirt, they were creatures with dignity, freedom, and definitely not something that is inherently meant to be abused."

"But they like it, working for wizards..." Harry tried to interject, but she only found it insulting he was trying to debate. She was used to being listened to, not replied to.

She spoke in a tone that infuriated Harry, the tone of one talking to a baby or a child, "Oh Harry...you can't really think they liked being enslaved can you? Of course it's brainwash, do you seriously think living things with a conscious mind would actually want to be enslaved? Oh silly you, well, if you read more, you would have made the deduction of your own, but of course you didn't which of course leads to the my next point that you and Ron should study more..."

At the mention of his name, Ron spoke up, "What, me?" But was simply ignored.

Finding no break in their discussion, Harry simply decided to end it right there, "Well, I don't really care about your SPEW, so let me sleep."

Her voice cut into the compartment again, "Oh no you don't, you see Harry, if you actively support SPEW, your fan club will also support the freedom of house elves, so right, as I was saying, you should become our spokesman."

"Go fuck a duck." Was all the reply he gave her, he didn't wanna be no spokesman for some retarded thing he didn't believe in, definitely not for her either, if it was someone like Neville asking for the favor, maybe he would have done it, but Hermione, not a chance in this world.

She freaked out at him swearing, "Harry, language," accompanied by swatting his arm, "You know you shouldn't swear, swearing is an immature..."

He tried to tune her out but with no avail, "Seriously, shut up." His tone filled with danger and laced with a silent threat, and Hermione being a bright witch she was noticed it completely. She sensed that their years of friendship might be damaged simply because she didn't shut up, so she brought out a book and stopped talking, allowing Harry to drift into a nap on the couch.

She huffed a bit in frustration at her friend's sudden change of attitude, but she knew it's not worth it to push her thoughts onto him and break their bond as a result. She watched him shuffle around in his sleep on the compartment, squirming as if he suddenly enjoyed the cushion on the chair, 'what happened?' she thought to herself, 'why has he changed?' she wanted to know, and she will find out one way or another.

* * *

It was almost a dream, he was afraid he'd lose it when he wakes up, maybe it was a hallucination, but no, it seemed so real. So it wasn't lying, he really had come back in time. But was it right to use his knowledge of the future to change the present, was he still the same as the one who fought the Dark Lord during his second rise to power? In curiosity he pulled up his right sleeve to see something that both surprised and relieved him. A mark, a snake coming out of a skull, a dark mark. No, it was not colored like one of those Death eaters, but a brand, literally burned into his skin, into his right forearm. Why it followed him he did not know, maybe it was a reminder, a clue, a reason, his reason for coming back was to destroy Voldemort, to fight a war with real power, to shove the dark arts up that snake-faced bastard's arse.

Harry was sure Dumbledore will not approve of his methods, he never did. Dumbledore was too conservative, all about defense, he never chose to have a direct confrontation and to have real power. He chose not to fight fire with fire, and see how well he ended up, he ended up dead. Good men end up dying, it's always the resourceful and the daring that lives through.

Running his hand across his wand holster drew up the feeling of a familiar warmth. His holly and phoenix wand. After it snapped in his previous timeline, he had spent a good amount of time trying to replace it, and god bless him, he never did. He never found one that felt right, although of course he suspected that his brother wand, the one possessed by Voldemort would feel just right. Throughout the war, he had changed over a dozen wand, finally settling for Godric Gryffindor's wand he had dug out of the founders grave in Hogwarts. True, it didn't feel right to steal the wand, but it attracted Harry, the aura of power, a classic example of power over accuracy. However, he still missed his holly wand, the wand was warm in his hands, it was unlike the founder's wand which seemed a bit too eager for battle, his original wand gave him warmth, like listening to Fawkes singing.

With the thoguhts of his wand over in his mind, he looked back at his female friend who seemed to be reading. He didn't know what to feel about here, true, she hadn't really betrayed him, but he had always leaned towards Ron and rarely supported Harry's ideas. She definitely was more trouble than she was worth, a truly useless duelist along with the Weasleys since they refused to learn dark arts. Those fools, if they did learn dark curses, maybe the "Burrows Raid" wouldn't have been complete annihilation, if they used stronger spells like most of the Order had learned, maybe some of them would have survived. These steadfast light supporters, such fools, such dedication to the light might make you morally correct, but it'll kill you in the end. There are no wards to describe their foolishness, even McGonagall, a light supporter ended up delving into darker arts, desperate time calls for desperate measures, only the foolish will refuse power when it is needed.

He felt the magic before it came, the core of a certain individual named Draco Malfoy. Harry had seen him in the future, a brave man fighting for what he believed is right, true, he was still arrogant, but at times, he was the only reason the Order survived. It was also thanks to him that Harry had lived on, for Draco took an Avada for him, dying for what he thought was correct. True, they were never best friends, their childhood interactions prevented that, but they respected each other, were civil,a and fought for each other.

Draco was well versed in the dark arts, and was the one who prompted Harry to learn. He had taught Harry the first batch of dark spells he had learned. Without Malfoy, the war would never have been raging for so long, the Order would have been obliterated almost immediately, Draco Malfoy was a hero, a true hero hero of war, now that he had the chance, Harry was determined to do better.

As expected, a pale face with platinum blonde hair opened the compartment door, followed by his two goons Crabbe and Goyle. "Oh look, its scarface, mudblood, and the traitor. Been contaminating any worthy wizards lately?" His two goons snickered at the insult, Ron woke up in reactions to Malfoy's voice, and Hermione looked up from her book at the insult.

"Malfoy..." Harry spoke with a neutral tone, he didn't care much for insults and stayed cool to try and converse with Malfoy civilly. He thought for a bit trying to create a civil conversation, it was hard job, considering the hate going on at this time. After all the thoughts on this subject, he decided to go with a very neutral topic, "How was your summer Malfoy?"

His eyes narrowed as he spoke, "Fine without you, Potter." he was truly surprised they're confrontation so far did not contain jabs, it was almost friendly, 'almost' being the operative word.

"My summer was quite well too, thanks for asking," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione were completely flabbergasted at such development Harry talking to a snake civilly? The most slimy snake to boot, they must be schizophrenic. Mafloy on the other hand was also at a loss of words, Harry Potter, the Harry Potter that rejected his friendship several times before having a civil conversation with him? Has the world come to an end?

He tried with his most snotty tone, "Well, sorry for not asking."

Harry gave him a brief nod, "Apology accepted,: He looked at the bemused face of everyone else in the compartment, "Why don't you have a seat with us, Malfoy?" THe blonde dumbly obliged, his goons sitting on either side of him, sandwiching the stupefied boy in the middle of the bench. Unable to have a witty comeback, he just sat down and stared forward. Ron and Hermione were also shocked beyond all belief, what's wrong, did Harry's uncle hit his head a bit too hard during the summer? Why was he so different?

The awkward group sat, trying their best not to insult each other well making several small talks throughout the trip. The animosity eventually lifted a bit well people were no longer stone-faced but legit conversing. Talking about things they normally talked about, a huge improvement.

* * *

_"Why have you sold us? Why? Why? Why have you..._"

"Shut up," Harry screamed, he was surrounded in darkness yet he kept hearing them. "GO away. Leave me alone." He continued his outburst and can see the flickers of light, faces appearing and disappearing around him.

_"Why, Harry why? Why have you condemned us?_" They spoke, their pale faces almost unrecognizable, their faces sad, the worst part was Harry knew them. It was the faces of the six he had traded fro time.

He did what came to his mind, run, he ran as fast as he could, but the darkness was endless. The abyss never ending, stretching on forever. And the faces followed him, unwilling to let him go free. "No, it was the right thing to do, no, no...It had to be done...go away..." His voice resonated as if he was in a enclosed space, but no, he was in a seemingly open area, he kept running, kept running, but the faces continued to follow him relentlessly.

"_You have condemned us into this suffering, why? Weren't you our leader? Why did you leave us, why?_" Their unified voices were getting stronger, tones of anger seeping out from their speech, each syllable was spoken with more vehemence than the last, each word questioning, accusing, doubting him.

There was a distant giggle, a chuckle, a voice he had heard once before though changed. It seemed more maniacal, uncontrolled, installing fear into Harry's heart. He heard the same chuckle in the distance, as if mocking him, feeding off his fear and misfortune, laughing as Harry was tormented, as if laughing at his foolishness. Harry shouted at the general direction of the voice, the laugh, "What is happening to me? Tell me, what the fuck is going on?"

The shadow laughed at his fear, chuckling, giggling like an eager child, just like how a child would treat its new toy, with anticipation, eager to rip it apart, but not enough to break it only to torture. "It's not me..." the same giggling, "I'm not affecting you." He chuckled a few more times infuriating Harry, "IT is you who traps yoursel fin this world."

Harry was puzzled, what the shadow said was completely contradictory. He was trapping himself? Fat chance. "Tell me what the fuck's going on, or I swear..."

The laughing never stopped, it seemed to come from all four directions, as if it was everywhere at the same time, "Don't you see? This is you. I gave you something more when I turned back time, I gave you yourself. I opened you to...you."

"What?"

"I opened you to yourself, truth, such lovely torment. What you do with it is up to you though."

"Then why am I here?"

It gave a hearty laugh, "Can't you see it? This is your heart. This darkness, This abyss is you, you have driven yourself to such depth, such delicious despair. This is the world in your heart, the true you." IT paused only to mock Harry. "Your guilt drives you into this madness, you never forgave yourself did you?"

"This is not me, this darkness cannot be me." Harry denied.

Its tone was almost in disbelief, "Why not?"

"I'm not like this, this is like...Voldemort, not me...like Riddle."

"Wait, wait wait, what are you saying, this is too dark? Don't make me laugh, you are worst than that beast, you are not just a beast, but a monster."

Harry was on the verge of tears, "I am not a monster or a beast, no, I am a man."

"Bullshit." The voice continued, "Remember this Potter, those who sell the souls of their comrades can not be human, you passed that mark long ago, you are a monster in monsterville now, don't deny, embrace." It laughed.

"No...no...I can't..."

"It is not Riddle that's haunted by demons, it is you who is haunted. This is insanity, those who play with darkness will drive themselves into madness."

"No...no..."

"Listen to them sing, they're all singing about you..."

"_Why have you condemned us? Aren't you our leader? Why have you left us...?_

He sniggered, "THis is you, this darkness is you...my advice: use it, but of course, you continue to deny."

Harry's voice was drowned in the maelstrom of regret, his own voice laced with regret.

The only audible voice was the shadow, its hearty laugh, its constant maniacal laughs, "Who's the monster now Potter?" Laughing again, "Use it, embrace this darkness, use this darkness, but of course, you may never get out..." With that parting remark, he was silent.

Luckily that night, Harry Potter did get out of his own mind.


	4. Haunted by His Past

Chapter 4: Haunted by His Past

* * *

_I have memories - but only a fool stores his past in the future._

_-David Gerrold_

* * *

Its voice rang in his head, _"You are a monster Potter, only a monster can trade his comrade's souls."_ The Conversation with the shadow had crippled him, stayed in his mind,, any attempts to banish only caused it to return, repeating in an infinite loop. One that drove him to the brink of madness .

"_Who's the monster now? Riddle? Or you?"_

"_Remember this Potter, it is you who is haunted by their own demons, not Tom…"_

"_The Darkness is you, you are the darkness…"_

"Shut up…" he screamed at nobody in particular, he had snuck into the Room of Requirements trying to calm his nerves, evidently, it was all in vain.

"_You are a monster Potter…"_

"_Why have you condemned us?"_

"_We trusted you…"_

"Shut up." He shouted again, tears welling up in his eyes. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see them. The six that were sacrificed, the shadow mocking him, he was afraid of sleep, afraid of what it would bring. "Leave me alone…" He sobbed, the tension, the emotions he brought back from his previous timeline finally rising up. War, chaos, pandemonium, destruction, death… To many these words were foreign but he was all too familiar with these nightmares. "Leave me alone…" His tears trickled down his cheeks, he could taste the salted drops on his lips, feel it slowly creeping down his face, his façade broken, he was truly vulnerable.

"Leave me alone…" He repeated, his hurt and pain exploding through the dam on his emotions. He couldn't afford to show emotions during the war, he was a leader. A leader cannot show weakness, a leader had to remain strong.

"_I thought you were our leader…"_

The six haunted him, hunted him, never giving him rest, "I didn't mean it…"

"_Why have you condemned us?"_

"I didn't mean it…" He sobbed, unrestricted tears fell down to the ground. All cooped up on the sofa, he was alone. "Didn't mean it…didn't mean it…"

Harry didn't remember the last time he cried so hard, even at the Order funerals for even his best friends and allies, he never cried. He always mourned silently, holding back his tears, he had no choice, tears are weakness and the Phoenix did not need a weak leader. He always wept silently, always mourned alone, always stood there trying to look brave, taking in all the pain, drowning in all the sadness, and he was always alone.

Throughout the war, Harry distanced himself from others, it wasn't on purpose, but he needed time to plan and train. Meeting his friends just didn't make top priority, aside some of his most loyal allies like Longbottom and Colins, no one trained alongside him. Ron and Hermione decided to isolate themselves in denial, in their own realities, refusing to fight full heartedly. Ron did fight from time to time, but always retreated back into his dream world, war is such a monstrous thing, changing bravery into cowardice. Yet Harry fought on, refusing to take on defeat, he had fought but look at the results, he was nothing, nothing but a monster, a monster that would trade his comrade's souls.  
The room was still except for the lone from a boy cooped up in a sofa at the center of the room. All was still, only the sniffling as the boy cried on, all was still.  
At times like these, Harry wished for support, wished he could rely on others, yet he found others unreliable. Part of him wanted to latch out to others, but part of him knew it was only fool's hope.  
Sometimes he just wished he could rely on someone else, to share the burden, there is always a problem though. People tend to die around him, and to him, a dead ally is completely useless, only someone with equal powers can stand around someone strong. To have power and leadership is a wicked thing, it is a double edged sword, it's a blessing and a curse at the same time. Along with the authority and respect a leader gains this unapproachable aura, a wall almost, it installs fear into others, discourages them from getting too close. People feared him, and he knew they did, he wished they didn't but the truth is there, it cannot be changed. "Why is this happening to me?" He asked no one in particular, after all, he was alone in a hidden room. There was no reply, "Why? Why? Why?"  
In rage he drew his wand intending to harm. Intending to wreak havoc, but on what? There was nothing, he was empty, the room was empty, there was nothing to break.  
His emotions ruptured his magic, channeled into his wand regardless of him wanting to cast or not, his magic responded to his feelings of hatred, of anger, of despair. It retaliated, it fired up.  
He watched his wand sizzling with his own power, waiting to be unleashed, waiting to destroy, waiting to kill. It was not a particular spell, just pure magic, pure emotions. It was unnatural, it is not just magic, but his own essence in the magic. It waited on the tip of his wand, staring into the angry red, Harry only sighed. Unable to hold it any longer, he lashed out, sending the bolt of energy forward and into the walls directly in front of him, it destroyed, yet the room repaired itself.  
His emotions were heightened by the destruction, even so by the reparation, he saw it as defiance. The room continued to restore, the tiles overturned were replaced, the walls filled itself in, every spell broke across the wall, yet the wall healed itself. All he could do is sigh and sob. His emotions were unleashed, his pant up emotions coming into the world, he could no longer turn back and just stare at nothing, he had to act, his mind dwindled, his logic failed him, all he could do is rage.  
Yet with his rage it brought sadness, sadness, this despair.  
Like falling into a deep hole, angry for falling in, but despair since falling in.  
"Why me, why me…" He asked as his rigid casting poses weakened. "Why me…" His wand movements slowed, "Why…me?" He couldn't take it anymore, he dropped to his knees and sobbed into his hands, repeating the words, "Why me?"

* * *

"Where were you last night? Ron said you weren't there when he woke up." Hermione's voice was full of concern, but Harry recognized it, it was not genuine thoughtfulness, but curiosity, the simple desire to know, just to know.

He looked at her coldly, his red bloodshot eyes piercing right through her brown ones, causing her to shudder at the hardness of those emerald orbs. "It's none of your business."

Hermione puffed, her hands on her waist in a scolding fashion, she did not like being dismissed. "Mr. Potter."

"Shut up."

"Harry James Po..."

"I said shut your trap, I'm trying to eat here." Harry's voice contained no emotion, just like how he had dismissed her yesterday, he was cold.

"You're being impossible, of course it's my business."

He looked at her almost scornfully, she had never seen him use that kind of glare against her, "How the hell is my business your business?" Her eyes narrowed.

With an indignant huff, she exclaimed, "Harry James Potter, you're just being impossible, now tell me what's wrong or I'm leaving." Ron was nowhere in sight since he had to rush back to the dorms due to forgetting some things.

"Then leave." She didn't expect him to simply tell her to leave, the Harry he knew valued friendship above all others, but this person was different. The old Harry would try to gain back friendship no matter what but this Harry, no, this stranger is completely different from what Hermione had known to be Harry James Potter.

She definitely looked positively horrified at Harry's statement, "I can't just leave...Harry James Potter, I demand you tell me what's wrong." Her voice had been raised, and in the corner of his eyes, he could see Malfoy looking at the confrontation with mild curiosity.

There was nothing on that cold block you call a face, nothing, not a spec of emotions, just pure ice. His next sentence came out colder than ice, much colder, almost freezing her, "Demand all you want, is that all you can do? Demand, don't make me laugh."

She was stupefied at her friend's statement. Completely shocked as he just got up and left, to him, he was tired of arguing, he hadn't gotten much sleep, he was afraid to sleep, afraid of the dark, afraid of what came with the darkness.

As he walked towards the courtyard he could see the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the part that was still a grassland before entering the forest. Far away, there was a figure, a small silvery wisp of a man, a intangible figure, blurry, but Harry knew all too well who it was. He couldn't see the silhouette's face, its blank eyes staring back into his green pupils, but even from this distance Harry knew who it was. He felt gazed upon, felt sick that they had followed him so far, he couldn't comprehend how, "Go away..." This weak statement was all he could manage in this tension, this fear swallowing him, all he could say was, "Go away," and only with a weak voice.

There was footsteps not far away, and when Harry turned to meet the intruder, he saw a boy with platinum blonde hair and an aristocratic face. "Not much of a mudblood lover now huh?" A very human voice drawled, spreading relief into his mind.

Harry felt immediate relief since he was now talking to a human, not some ghost or remnant of his past, "She's too curious for her own good."

Sniggering, Malfoy answered, "Damned right you are." He was actually surprised Harry didn't bother with the mudblood comment.

"What can I do for you, Malfoy?"

The blonde boy looked back at the raven haired one with almost an embarrassed expression, "Umm...right...I was wonder if you'd like to like substitute with Vincent to be my potion partner, you know...house unity and shit? You feel me?"

Harry considered for a moment, this might be a good chance to be with Malfoy, spend time with him and remove the hate, to Malfoy, this was a strategic move to both get his friendship and to gather information on him. It was a win win situation for both. "Good thing I din;t have a potions partner, you know, since Hermione is gone." They both chuckled at the comment, "But what about Greg and Goyle?

Malfoy gave a dry laugh, "Don't worry, Snape won't let them fail, it's gonna be fine."

"If you say so." Harry was not convinced but didn't say anything further.

"Catch you later." Malfoy said as a parting comment.

"Yeah, see you in transfig," they both parted separate ways, Harry to walk the long way avoiding any open windows that may give him views of the open and Malfoy taking the most direct route through the windowed courtyard towards the transfiguration classroom.

* * *

Transfiguration was probably the best subject for him, at least the one he was more proficient in, excluding dark arts of course. He always found the unpredictable-ness of transfiguration amusing and useful since there were infinite many ways to do the same thing. The choices made during transfiguration was almost impossible to counter, when used correctly it was an extremely potent weapon, if not, well, it still worked. The thing that you have to look out for when using transfiguration is to save your energy, it's really easy to accidentally overexert yourself when casting so many transformations at once, definitely conjuration, since conjuration uses a lot of energy as substitute to create physical things.

One thing about transfiguration he learned that put him far beyond Minerva ever could was transfiguring dust. Yes, dust. Most duelists that utilizes transfiguration will conjure things to transfigure, but what happens if you put enough brute magic into your spells to enlarge dust particles and transfigure them? The result is you have an almost infinite supply of materials to work with, and you can even piece them together to form larger things, this is like a legit example of power over accuracy, something Harry was extremely good at. Future McGonagall is by far much better than Harry via details, but his brute force and quick thinking overtakes his teacher by a lot, he often bested her with his unorthodox tactics, although he did lose sometimes as well.

Now one might be wondering why Harry is currently thinking about transfiguration. THe answer is quite simple, because he's in transfiguration class. He felt glad practicing magic, momentarily forgetting the pain deep in his mind, momentarily relieving him of the burden. However, momentarily being the operative work, it would not last.

When he saw McGonagall, he couldn't help but remember what she looked like with a hole in her stomach. The image from his previous time frame simply popped out, a vivid image, but an unwanted one at that.

_Her blood, dripping out of the perfectly drawn circle in her torso. Simply missing a chunk of her flesh. Her mouth and eyes were wide open in disbelief, a scream at t eh tips of her tongue, but she only had a quarter of a lung left, not enough to breathe, definitely not enough to scream. Her face was one with both surprise and terror, surprised at being caught off guard, terrified at what inevitably came next: death. The blood seeped out from top to bottom, one could see the whites of what's left of her spine, if you looked hard enough that is, the pink balloons that once pumped air into her was mostly gone, razed off, simply a bloody mess. _

_The Order members who found her, two recent recruits puked at the sight of such brutality. Harry had to be very conscious in not vomiting anything out himself. Every detail was burned into his brain, every spec of blood, every white of bone, the expression of death, he had thousands of it in his brains, whether it was his friends or enemies, they were all burned into his mind. The sanguine pool around her was her life force dripping out, although dripping might be a really big understatement, it was more of flowing, and maybe flowing doesn't cut it either. The worst part was that he remembered every detail, a story he cannot run from, a scene that he was left to deal with on his own terms, and alone as he always had done. _

He shook his head a few times to remove the mental image in his mind. But whenever he saw his professor, it would creep back into his mind, it was simply impossible to remove. "Mr. Potter, is everything all right?" A stern yet caring voice snapped him out of his thoughts, looking up into the grey eyes of his professor, he gave a small nod and a strained smile, but he knew shew as not convinced, not even close.

He turned and saw Neville struggling to turn a block into a box. Neville was brave, a true Gryffindor, always the vanguard, charging into battle with his insane shield and attacks. His spells powered by rage, the rage of death, the rage of dying loved ones, Augusta, Frank, Alice, and countless others who were killed by his enemies.

_His body was lying there, on top of the hill. Neville had been amongst the first to come into contact with the enemies at the top, the circle of bodies near him showed he didn't go down easy. He had taken quite a bit of damage himself, his body dirtied by the soot and dirt which covered him, his left arm was dismembered, only bits and pieces still left on his shoulder. Death hadn't taken him peacefully, there were cuts all over his body, his chest showed evidence of being hit by multiple weaker bludgeoning hexes, half of his face had been burned by what seemed like fiendfyre. Yet his hand gripped tightly around his wand, clutching on his weapon, his vengeance, his resolution. It showed his faith, his dedication, and his strength. He gave every last effort he had to fight, not only to survive, but to attain victory, truly honorable. Harry wept silently at his friend and best ally's death, tears threatening to drip from his eyes, but no, it was not just because of death that caused him such pain. Death almost meant nothing to him, he saw it every day, every hour, every second, every moment of his life was a reminder of countless others that died for him to survive. He sighed at such indignation, the way Neville's body was found infuriated him, for he could only see the top half of his friend's body. _

It came back to him, the images associated with people, the images of them in the war, it was horrendous, it was revolting, yet it was him, it was undeniable.

Harry tried to distract himself by creating a box out of what seemed to be thin air, but in fact he was using the particles around him, his perfect material. "Impressive Potter, five points to Gryffindor," he hadn't noticed Professor McGonagall being beside him, he was too enthralled by the images of his past life, people dying, pain, anger, sadness, it enveloped him.

"Thank you Professor." His voice was strained, stressed, slightly nervous, and his redheaded friend noticed.

Ron looked at him with concern, "You okay Harry?" But Harry never heard his friend's concern.

He felt suffocated...

He felt fear...

It was too real...

It was too close...

There is no running away...

It was all coming back to haunt him...

He couldn't stand it, his mind threatened to explode, his sanity threatening to collapse. Everything was so foreign, he didn't know why he was there, where he was, he wasn't meant to be there. Where the fuck was he? His mind raced, his eyes reflecting his panic, darting around from point to point, never slowing down. It was like a caged animal, the fear, the desperation, the terror, his breaths were hastily inhaled and exhaled, his breathing was fast, heart rate in a frenzy, where was he? This isn't right, he wasn't supposed to be here.

Then it appeared, his fears, his worst nightmares, a face appeared on his desk, a mournful face, a sad face, a pained face, a betrayed face. The pair looked at each other, staring into each other's eyes, but the face smiled, grinning madly, split across it's gas-like face, grinning broadly, it started to speak, started to chant the same thing over and over again.

Harry couldn't hear what his adversary was saying, but for some reason he could understand it completely, he could read its lips, "You're next, you're next, you're next, you're next, you're next..."

With a violent jerk, Harry turned his face, but instead of meeting the eyes of his partner Dean, he saw the face. It was a different face, but the same ghastly affects. It was mournful and pensive, but after it seemed to notice Harry's stare of terror, it also split into a broad crescent grin, mouthing the same words, "you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next..." He kept repeating the same words, never stopping, just kept repeating the two dreaded words like a mantra, never stopping.

He looked away, the professor was scrawling something incomprehensible on the blackboard, it seemed important since everyone was staring attentively, looking forward. Then it became clear, the two dreaded word were formed, "you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next..." he jumped in shock, then everyone turned slowly, ever so slowly to see him, but it was not his class, but the faces of them.

They all broke into a grin, all of them, all at once, then all muttering the same two demonic words, "you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next..."

He couldn't stand it anymore, his mind couldn't take it anymore, panic overwhelmed him, and he did the only thing he could at that moment: run. He ran out of the room panic-stricken. Unable to comprehend what's happening, he just rushed out, rushed to the quidditch pitch, and sat down and started sobbing, all along he could hear the words, "you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next,you're next, you're next..."

* * *

A/N:

It's taken forever to finish this chapter, not because I didn't have ideas, but because I hate typing...

Anyways...not much to say except that I hope you all enjoy

Although it does seem kinda weird for me to write about someone completely psycho and go back into normal talk, oh well, I guess it is interesting :)


	5. Deeper Thoughts

Chapter 5: Deeper Thoughts

* * *

_The soul of God is poured into the world through the thoughts of men._  
_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

Harry Potter was feeling fine, or at least what he thought was fine, well, anything without those faces should be defined as fine. After the episode in transfiguration class he's been hiding, umm…but he hid in the middle of the quidditch pitch. Not exactly the most discreet place but it offered him three-sixty degree view, the fact that it's an open space, somewhere without any pressure. The sky somewhat calmed him, somewhat is really an overstatement, it just made him ease up a bit, but not by much. He had never been the smartest guy, even during the war he had never been the greatest planner, he managed, but deductions really wasn't his forte. It had always been Hermione with the plan, and then McGonagall, never Harry, he was more of the muscle than the brawn, always the brawn. Her death had been hard on the Order, hard on him, hard on everybody, it was like a body without the head, everyone had to work to fill in the spot, the emptiness, the Order remained on the defensive for almost three full months, like really defensive, stuck without any plans, just taking hits left and right.

But now she is back, but she can't really help him, it was impossible, no one can help him, what's done is done, those demons will remind him of who he is, what he has become, and there's no turning back now. He looked at the mark under his sleeves, the brand, it was ugly, a tainted mark, but it symbolized who he was, he was something caught between light and darkness, not really dark completely, but definitely not light either, it's time to take a side. It had been a mistake to not take sides, to try and be in the middle, it was a deathly mistake, in order to be strong one must take a side, he will not repeat his same mistake again, never again.

It sounds easy to take a side, but the reality is much different, taking a side didn't mean just using dark magic is dark and just using light magic is light, its the intent that counts. Harry remembered a very old tome he found in Dumbledore's office. It said something about intent, but he never really cared until now, Harry had prided himself being an ally of justice or so he thought, an ally of justice that used darker arts, shoving dark arts up bad guys ass, but was he really a symbol of justice? He had done many things that would disagree with justice, things like torture, interrogation, and as always, trading the souls of his comrades. A side must be taken though, and he knew which side to take, darkness gives the most amount of growth over a short period of time, by trading parts of your own consciousness for power, thus people must make a choice whether or not their "Desires" are worth the "Cost".

He drew his wand again, his phoenix and holly wand, again the presence of warmth washed over him, but it was not warmth and comfort of being strong, it was more of a purity, a purity he did not possess. He had used spells most wouldn't dare to use, he had cast spells with intents of torturing and maiming enemies, true they were enemies and would have killed him too, but it was the intent that counts. At times of war, people do not reflect over their actions, but in times of peace, there is more than enough time to think over what had been done, and it was times of peace. But he would get involved in the Triwizard tournament, how peaceful is that, a dragon to slay, a treasure to rescue, and at the end of the year a dark lord to face, very peaceful indeed. But he had come back, he has a plan now, Harry Potter will fear his destiny no more, he has a chance to make a difference, one chance to reshape the future, to propel the future into a completely new and unknown future, a chance to change destiny.

His plan has to be executed with perfection, no body can know about his knowledge, because as they say, "every time you look into the future it changes, because everytime you see it , it changes everything in it." He must act as he had no hidden knowledge, he must act as if nothing is amiss, and reenact the previous timeline for the perfect chance to execute a coup, he will strike Voldemort at his weakest, when he is still in his homunculus form, Pettigrew can be easily overpowered, and a weak Voldemort should theoretically be easy to defeat considering the fact he has troubles holding his wand.

At the thought of such a genius plan Harry laughed, laughing hysterically, roaring into the quidditch pitch, his laughter echoing around the stadium. The sound scared him, his laughter, such hysterics, such a maniacal sound, it didn't belong to him, it shouldn't belong to him, the voice is one belonging to a monster, a monster that Harry did not want to become but for the sake of the world he must become.

Then there was a hoarse voice in his mind, "Perhaps I can be of assistance."

* * *

Harry could only see darkness right not, and a form in front of him, this was nowhere, yet at the same time he was everywhere. Darkness was the only thing surrounding him, an abyss, a dark trench in the middle of nowhere, but in him. The form in front of him opened one eye, a red nocturnal eye with a slit-like pupil, the form was not human, that Harry knew, but his ally, if he could call him that was definitely not helping him for no reason whatsoever, it would demand a return, a gift, but that was for later, not now.

The form beckoned him to a door, an odd door in all the darkness, an elegant yet simple mahogany door, a simple rectangle board with a simple spherical doorknob. A beautiful contradiction to all the dread and darkness around, with a twist from the shadow, the door opened. There was no creak, no odd sound of a door opening, a perfectly balanced door, simply perfect. The dark form stood by the door waiting, it waited like a butler, a hand opened pointing at what's beyond the door, waiting for him to enter, waiting for Harry to put faith, to trust the shadows, to become an ally of the darkness.

When he walked in, Harry was quite surprised. The room beyond was perhaps the incarnation of simplicity, an completely austere and spartan room, simple nothingness, a white room with a single chair, a wooden chair of no elaborate design, simply a chair. Sitting in it was a silhouette, a form of hazy darkness, almost like a shadow but it's impossible to be a shadow, after all, shadows are two dimension, this form was barely three, but still three. The raven haired wizard stood in front of the chair, waiting for a reply, waiting for some form of acknowledgement, but there was none, the two stayed in peace, or relative peace and silence, a young wizard standing and a shadow sitting.

For some reason Harry didn't speak, perhaps he was too excited to speak, perhaps too afraid, but the important thing is he didn't speak at all, neither did the shadow that always mocked him. And for some astronomical reason the shadow did not mock Harry of his distress like it always did, it did not mock him of the pains and images he had been seeing for the past week or so, time had always been irrelevant to Harry, time simply passed. The two unlikely pair stayed in silence, neither one starting, no one offering an explanation, both of them in silent understanding that something will happen, something "magical" although the word loses its meaning in the wizarding world.

The silhouette opened an eye, hard to believe a shadow even has an eye, but it does for some reason, after, it is not really a shadow, but something resembling a shadow. The only human in the room drew back in shock, there was something intimidating about that one eye, is it the color? Blood red. Not really, is it the pentacle inscribed in it?No, not really, it wasn't any of the physical things that scared the human, but the pressure it gave just from opening it's eyes. There was primal terror, things deep within a human's mind, instructions learned at the beginning of time, lessons taught to humans to fear the darkness, fear the shadows. Humans are inherently made from the physical realm, made in the other side of the veil, no matter how evil, a human is part of the light, but supernatural beings, beings of magic are made of the darkness.

Everything in Harry's mind radiated warning, a feeling that didn't feel all that well, this being is dangerous, definitely dangerous, the malice radiating from it is a clear sign of danger, but Harry continued to stand. He continued to stand in the presence of this monstrosity despite the door being slightly ajar, just waiting for Harry to run through, run right outside, away from his fears, away from fear incarnate. But he stood. There were no voices of mockery like how the shadow used to talk, no degrading comments, nothing to make the wizard feel bad, in essence, there was nothing at all, one stood and one sat, but neither spoke, neither moved, there was only silence.

It pointed at a drawer on the far end of the rectangular room, somehow it must have appeared when they were standing because Harry had not seen it on his way in, but he got the message. With slow and unsteady steps, Harry Potter made his way to the drawer the shadow referred to, a black triple leveled cabinet made of ornate dark wood. The other covering was carved with obscure runes of the ancients, runes that no one has seen in millenniums, even though the human is too young to even understand what they are, it resonated with an innate part of him, telling him it was evil, it was demonic in nature, it was diabolic.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage, the human slowly opened the referred cabinet, slowly inching it open, afraid that there will be something monstrous in there, something that can kill the human. What surprised him was when he opened it, there seemed to be no bottom to the holding place, it was as if someone cast a bottomless charm on it, but it was much more sinister, it was dark, completely dark, and when fully opened, there was a figure sitting at the bottom of the pit. It seemed to be sleeping, its eyes closed but it still radiated malice. It was black, completely black, and had a set of carved horns like a ram, except the horns this being has can probably skewer Harry alive. Even when crouching down, this being looked almost as tall as if not taller than Harry, but he was judging from the top, it was almost impossible to tell. He was confused, why did the shadow show him this? He turned to ask, but there was no longer a chair, there was nothing, the room was bare except for the black cabinet, the room was completely bare, not even the door remained.

Opening the second level of the cabinet, there was a book, but when he opened the book, it was blank, thus only confusing Harry even more. The last level of the cabinet seemed locked at first, but after inspecting it for awhile and making some jerking motions, the last level yielded to Harry's desires, opening, and showing the last secret. There was a small dagger, it's composition unknown, but it was a beautiful dagger. A small straight blade decorated with runes similar to the ones inscribed on the cabinet, encrusted with several gems of a more dark variety of colors thus making it more morbid in nature. Then he understood.

It seemed as if his magic resonated with the small dagger he held in his hand barely thirteen inches. It felt like he knew what to do, it just felt so right in his hands. Without knowing it he started playing with the knife, twisting and twirling it around, spinning it in his hands even though he had never held a dagger before. He knew what he had to do, it was all right there, the puzzle finally fell into pieces, it would give him power if he was lucky, it will help him if he succeeded, it was his only choice, it was his best bet. He has to do it.

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore sat at his usual seat in his office waiting for the arrival of one very special boy, a boy with the name of Harry Potter. After what he heard today from one of his senior professors as well as the deputy Headmistress McGonagall it was imperative that he has this conversation with Harry. It was definitely not his style to talk to students in person like this, but from what Minerva had described there might be a serious problem going on in Harry's life and as Headmaster he was responsible for the well being of his students. Messages had been passed and now he was waiting, anticipating the meeting with one of his prized pupils. There was a brief knock at the door and after checking one of his trinkets which identified those at the door he said to another instrument, "Come in."

The door opened slowly, starting from slightly ajar to fully opening, a figure stepped through the doorway but it was someone Dumbledore does not recognize, not at all, the aura wasn't even one of a human. It was dark, not hazy dark like a wizard devoted to dark arts, not like Tom's, most humans have auras that cling to them like a cloud or mist outlining their image, but this was different. This aura was no cloud, no mist, it was simply a black block, a sphere that engulfs him, that person, no that thing had an aura of pure malevolence, ancient hatred, that thing was not Harry, and Harry was not that thing. Such contradiction was not possible unless that thing is a parasite that feeds off Harry, in essence, these two are completely different, they coexist to some extent but real question is whether Harry knows of its existence or not. "Is there something wrong Headmaster?"

The Headmaster was a bit taken back at the almost naivety of this question, yet with it was laced with threat, almost unseen but if you delve deep enough there is this sarcasm, it was like how Tom would have said it, a simple sentence with fake sincerity. It reminded the senile wizard so much of Tom in his youth, how he would talk to everyone else, how he would pretend to be kind, but inside, he was a devil. Trying to act as normal as possible, Headmaster Dumbledore replied, "No Harry, I was just reminscenting about something." There was a pressure in the air, something was here, something that can't be seen, the experienced mage could feel eyes on him, eyes with an unpure intention, something malevolent.

"Headmaster, what did you need me for?"

Dumbledore snapped back into reality at the question, he really mastered the art of kinda listening to others but not really paying attention. "I'm pretty sure you know the reasons for the meeting today Mister Potter."

The boy in front of him faked innocence, "I apologize for not knowing Headmaster, perhaps you can enlighten me?"

There was danger, certainly there was danger, the old mage kept his eye on Harry's aura for any malevolent intentions, alas, there were none. "Than perhaps I can be of assistance." He paused a moment, "I'm here to talk to you about your episode in transfiguration."

Harry Potter looked at Albus in fake surprise, than grinned, "You mean that..."

The aged wizard scrunched up his eyebrows. "Yes...that..." Then continued, "So is there an explanation for your outburst my boy?"

There was that fake innocence again, "Perhaps?" After a pause, "Perhaps not?"

"Professor McGonnagall is extremely concerned about your condition Harry, it would be best if a explanation can be made so that no one will be plagued with unneccessary concern." He said in a gentle voice.

"I think I'll pass." Harry said in a disinterested tone, after all there was no need to explain to this human who doesn't even know anything, there was no point, and he most likely wouldn't agree according to his memories of this old magician, exactly what he is, a cheap magician.

The old man had never been talked down to ever since who remembers when excluding his brother of course, the actions of a boy who used to be a quiet and loving young man was truely enigmatic. "I must protest..."

With a raised hand, Harry cut him off, "Protest all you want, I've got things to do, places to be, after all, I'm a very busy man."

The last sight Dumbledore had of the boy he once considered sweet was the black ball surrounding him, then a set of teeths seem to materialize on the outer surface of the aura, grinning at him, mocking, then a red eye opened, causing Dumbledore to almost stumble in fright. With his back to the old man, Harry left with a parting comment, "Is there something wrong Headmaster?"

* * *

"That was definitely unwise, Child of Man, now that man definitely knows you are aware of my existence." The hoarse voice spoke in Harry's mind, he warded off the visions as long as they work together, Harry could be free from those pains.

"Naberius, he'd find out anyways, you know how crafty that senile man is, he'd find out on his own."

"That may be so, Child of Man, but this could bring unwanted and hindering attention to us, and we can't afford to be hindered for our plan to work, after all, we have less than an year."

Harry considered it for a second, "At least I don't have to worry about the tournament, with my powers and yours combined, I can probably breeze through it."

"That may be so, but our plan requires time, time we do not have, and without time our plan cannot succeed."

"Can't you just turn back time like you did last time?"

There was a throaty laughter in Harry's mind, "Do you think I'm some kind of supreme deity? I did not turn back time, I ripped out your soul and placed it in another vassal, namely yourself six years from the pact, I do not control time, I do not need to control time."

With a deep sigh, Harry continued to speak, "Even so, can't I just go to Little Hangleton and beat up Voldemort?"

"Right, like you can exit the wards without alerting someone human, your magic is extremely limited, even with my knowledge and my expertise it will exhaust you just to move out of the wards."

There was another sigh, "So I was right about having to wait for that chance."

"You were, Child of Man." There was a pause, "You should start scripting the runes needed for our grand finale, those will take lots of work."

"So you decided to name it 'The Grand Finale'? How unoriginal." There was a slight mocking tone in Harry's voice.

Naberius spoke with his hoarse voice, "What's wrong with that Child of Man, you better hope it's a finale for your enemies, or it will be your own demise, so I suggest you do concentrate on the work at hand."

Harry waved his wand a bit to remove the glamour on his hand, a small seal was revealed on the back of his hand. A circle with several curves and lines intersecting, a seal. There was a slight gash on the insides of his palm, it seemed hastily healed, but it was not perfect, a small scar still remained. "Did you think it was wise of me to call upon you?"

There was a slight pause, "Is it wise to call up a demon? Any other circumstance I would say no, but you are special, you are immune to my urges to devour, you have a purpose, you have a will."

Harry frowned, "You didn't answer the question. Is it that bad?"

There was the same laugh of mockery like he had been so used to. "Ask yourself the same question, is summoning one of the Grand-Marquis of Hell a very smart thing to do human?" Another pause, "The world is such a strange place, you, a human once immersed in dedication to the light, fallen to the darkness to end darkness, isn't the Supreme One ironic?" Let me tell you human, there is nothing in this life that happens without the Supreme One's control, you humans live under salutary neglect, but when he chooses to meddle, you have no choice but to play his games, even I, a powerful ancient one has to bow to his will, there is no freedom, all you can hope is to live through his plans."

The human wizard looked down on the ground then back up into the skies, "Play his games huh?" he pondered for a minute, "Well, I intend to win." With that last remark, the young raven haired wizard walked off to the Room of Requirements to do some work and planning.

* * *

In the distance distant land on a night clad thorn was a figure with red eyes, it sat facing a hall of some sorts, a Great Hall filled with many different beings, all of different sizes and shapes, different beings all together. "Then let us win the game together."


	6. Maybe Maybe

Chapter 5: Maybe, Maybe

* * *

_"Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough_

_-Og Mandino_

* * *

It was a moment of indecision, a moment of weakness, a moment of hesitance. The result wasn't quite as fortunate as a "moment," the unfortunate consequence was the offending party losing an arm. "Fuck" swore at no one in particular as he looked at his bloodied stump and the remains of his hand on the ground which was just bits and pieces of blood and gore, "Fuck," he swore again, making a quick grab for his wand which he had not held in his accident, fortunately.

There was the same laughter in his head, the same cold, hoarse laughter full of mockery. "That was the fifth time human, must you express your masochism by destroying your arm at every attempt?"

The wizard shouted in the air at no one in particular, "Fuck off, necrophile."

"Harsh, but must you really fail at every attempt."

Harry waved his wand to summon a briefcase out of space, opening it to find a parchment with a rune hastily drawn on it. In a quick motion and a grunt of pain Harry slammed the piece of parchment on the stump of his arm and muttered a few words in Latin, a strange hew of purple and black surrounded his stump and without warning materialized into an arm, no, not Harry's arm which is still on the ground, but just an arm, a nice arm. "Damn this is disgusting."

"Your problem for destroying your arm again." The voice in his mind commented offhandedly.

With a shake of his head, "Damn you are right." His tone had become much more serious.

The wizard currently resided in the Room of Requirements, in its most bare and original form of a treasure vault. This was where he had found the pendant, the horcrux, and several other pretty trinkets without any use whatsoever, and of course, this is where he found one of the original Key of Solomon, attached to it was a small grimoire with texts written in ancient tongues. What Harry had been looking for was definitely not the Key of Solomon, that book is completely useless, well not really, it does contain a few authentic pentacles and good information on demons but other than that, the magic imbued in the book had long deteriorated. From what Naberius had told him, the ancient tome once contained magic that could summon low level demons just by naming them, but whatever enchantments that had been placed on the tome died, well, thousands of years without use and charging tends to do that to magical instruments.

What he really wanted was the small attachment, that was the real treasure. It was notes to real demonology written by a contractor long ago who once possessed the Key of Solomon. He became one of the strongest magicians the world has ever seen, and no, he was not Merlin. In fact, no one really knows who he is, just that his magic bore right into the fabric of reality, his magic residue still rests today, the only reason demons cannot freely enter the human realm was because of his seals, before his time it was simple matters for a demon to step into the human plane and eat a few dudes before whisking off back into their world.

His book states "not all demons are bad, in fact, all the residents of the "Other Plane" should be referred to as "Ancients." There are no good or bad Ancients, they are just there. Yes there are different ones who are more sympathetic to the humans or "Lesser Beings" as they refer to us, but the majority of the Ancients don't really give a damn about our existence so long we stay in our own plane. Humans being the master of the mortal plane have authority over those who trespass, or in most cases "kidnapped" as they summon Ancients to do their biddings. The Other Plane actually mirrors our own, with exception the same reasons that there are leylines is that some locations in the Other Place like a overlord's stronghold or a particular affluent Ancient's saturates into the ground and into our plane..." Hogwarts was built on a leyline of magic, or so they say.

There were many interesting facts about demons like how they can only survive without a host in a leyline since the magic is saturated enough to sustain them, and that there are many ways to summon a demon however they all take time and ritualistic magic to contain, the book does mention an exception but doesn't dwell into it. Harry of course had studied the book inside out in the Room of Requirements which is where he went after at the end of just about every day since he does't need the other brats inquiring his "training", and yes they were brats because Harry had the mentality of a twenty-year old the just went through war.

"Let's try this one again," Harry said with a small sigh since statistically speaking, the chances of his arm getting blown off again is much higher then succeeding. He threw his hand outwards towards the empty space in front of him and closed his eyes. He searched for the one inside him, finding it in a dark corner within his mind, locked down by a very ancient seal. "There goes nothing" Harry muttered to himself as he focused on the cage and opened it ajar, and waited for the pain.

At first there was nothing, well, it always started out like this, then it came, slowly, slowly, building up, then bam...The pain was immense agony, like a torrent of sledgehammers slamming onto your skull. Each second brought even more pain then before and what Harry had to do was lessen the magic flow and try his best to control it. Apparently, his "best" wasn't enough to save him since the pressure kept increasing and increasing nonstop, at this point Harry screamed.

"You're almost there human..." Harry could barely hear the coarse voice he hated yet appreciated at the same time.

The human magician gritted and ground on his teeth, turning the surface of his teeth into fine powder, only a bit, not much to be potential damage. Inside his mind Harry was trying as hard as he could to shut down the powerful stream and manipulate the strength to his lying, it wasn't really working like his previous attempts but for some reason he could feel something was happening.

The door of the cage was slightly ajar, not enough for the imprisoned one to come out but that wasn't the point. Even with a door slightly ajar, the being within radiated power that lurched out of the small slit in waves, suffocating the human trying to process the foreign energy and somehow wield it as his own. It was painful, definitely painful since the magic from the ancient one was being denied by the magic of the human.

Magic is like an immune system to some degrees explaining why there are not many cases of diseases affecting a wizard's body contracted by muggles. The magic in a magical being's veins will be wash out foreign substance in the body including bacteria, virus, and sometimes foreign magic like very weak legilimency, that is the reason for passive occumulens, because their magic is thick and able to push out foreign magic much more effectively. Magic from different beings definitely did not like being mixed unless the host is originally a hybrid, like those demigods in mythology who sometimes possess gifts from their "godly" parent like elemental control, auras, etc. Those are magic from another being mixing with one's own veins and creating a magical circuit within a person, the reason why all demigods are technically legible to learning magic.

However, an Ancient's blood mixing with a very normal mortal person was definitely not normal, nor was it peaceful. True, Harry was marked by fate, marked by another Ancient, no not just an Ancient, something even older than Time itself, however, the connection between Fate and the human is just too small to catalyst a connection and any magic that he wants to receive from an Ancient will have to be forced through completely.

Imagine a person trying to bleed you dry and put new and different blood in you well lacerating you for faster flow and the convulsions you will receive from reacting to foreign blood of different types, that and about a thousand times is the pain Harry is going through.

His hands glowed purple and dark filled with the Ancient's strength, he had gotten here before on his last attempt but his hands had blown since it couldn't sustain the magic of the Ancient, but after a few strengthening charms everything should be all right. "Shit...fuck...fuck...fuck...shit..." Harry continued swearing as his magic attempted to flush out the foreign substance through his hands which happen to have the more magical pores than any other part of the body, the reason why sorcerers shoot lightening bolts from their fingers.

There was a burning sensation and the smell of both ozone and sulfur coursed the air. Those two make a weird combination, ozone is lightening, sulfur refers to magma. However they make perfect sense to a degree. Ozone is lightening, lightening is storm and storm is often a symbol of chaos. Sulfur is magma and also in some cases hellfire, while magma is also deep within Earth, and deep in Earth is Tartarus, the abyss, or in other words, where the demon lays. Chaos and hell, a perfect combination for a demonic being, or so they say.

The purple black hue continued to radiate even brighter, the energy radiating off the cage's doors began to lesson to Harry's surprise, the pounding on his meager occumulens shield also began to lesson, more surprise. The light was the only thing intensifying and that meant one thing, big "Kaboom," which definitely was not good. "Come on, hold you stupid hands," He muttered to himself praying to whatever God of not exploding hands is listening. "Fuck..." He shouted at the room as the pain continued to sear into him, the pure energy radiating off his limb, he gathered his will and restrained the escaping energy, or at least as much as he could, grappling the magic with his magical mind, willing it to be accepted, to return, to become him.

The magic streaming into burned him, purified him, creating a vortex of energy within him, a maelstrom of foreign and native magic, each grappling for control over the system. The trick however was to yield to neither, he must take control of both magicks and not yield to either one. That may not sound so hard but imagine being on fire, pretty hot right? Pretty hard to concentrate right? Then imagine being on fire in a thunderstorm, like in the storm not under it, then imagine having to balance too bombs on a plank placed on your head, with each bomb strong enough to blow you to bits if it drops, pretty hard right?

That was pretty much what Harry had to do, balance the two magicks well being in a maelstrom of energy when his body is burning from his own magic reacting to foreign elements, not the best place to be nor the safest place to be. "Come on..." he muttered to himself as his mind continued to impose his iron will on the wild magic of two very different worlds, tried to force his will into the physical realm, making the wild magic submit to his mind. It wasn't easy mind you, it was definitely not easy trying to control magic of essentially different natures. "Fuck...fuck...fuck..." he continued to mutter to himself as he fought to maintain some sort of dominance over himself yet failed to as magic seemed to burst out from his pores. The cloud of dark vapor magic combination continued to gather and condense, continued to grow despite Harry's best attempts at reining it in.

He was almost there, he could feel it, he could feel the two magicks finally yielding to his control, the two raging storms finally stopping, he could feel it, he was almost there. The question however was whether or not he would make it. He could feel his body crumbling under the wait of the combined mights, felt the very fabric of reality distort from such a magical phenomena, he could see it, he could see the distortion in space time himself.

He will not fail...

He will not be defeated...

He will be victorious...

He will succeed...

Those thoughts ran through his head as the agony blinded him, all he could see was red, all he could feel was pain. 'It's now or never' he thought, he knew the magic is creating intense damage on his body, deteriorating it and destroying it, if he does not succeed now, he will never be able to try again, he will probably never be able to live again either. His iron will clasped on the magic within him, his determination both to live and to emerge victorious strengthen his resolve, strengthen his might, his will, his beliefs. He knew that if he manages to utilize the powers of the ancients he will be able to offset the balance between himself and Voldemort, or at least be able to fight him to a standstill. He will fight for the people he cared for, he will fight for those that believed in him, he will not fail, he cannot fail, the Creator had given him a chance of redemption, a chance to restart with a new strength, he will use his chance to the fullest, he will prosper and show the Creator he is to be trusted.

Seconds dragged on to minutes, minutes dragged on to what seemed like hours, what seemed like eternity to the man who suffered. His body ached from the pain that no others can rival, not even a thousand cruciatus curse would have been able to compare to, but he was a survivor, he had bore through pain, he had prospered from pain, he is an ally of pain, and today pain will not be his downfall.

Right before he fell to the ground, the circular rune with jagged lines on the back of his hand burned black then red, signifying the completion of his bond with the Ancient within him, but he never saw that yet, all Harry did was fall to the ground out cold.

* * *

There was a dark figure who sat in a rectangular room filled with mist of darkness. He was not alone in the hall, there being two rolls of beings facing each other a distance away. He sat on a throne of darkness, a throne of obsidian black, added with his already dark appearance the only thing that differentiated was his blood red eyes. On the podium his throne sat upon there was a large circular rune with jagged lines and arches that decorated the complex design, the rune however glowed red and shifted between purple and back as well, giving a morbid hue to the room along with the miasma creating a erie glow that seemed to radiate in the air.

The many beings bound within the room seemed restless, their equally red eyes screaming with bloodlust, their bellows and animalistic roars screaming for action. They were restless, and what lay beyond the wall was equally restless. Their lord looked unwavering at the mass of bloodthirsty warriors, looking at his subjects and thinking, then a small smile crept up on his face before he extinguished it just as fast as it came. He will provide action, he will provide war, he will let his warriors kill, destroy, obliterate, just not yet, not just yet, pandemonium is soon, but one has to wait in anticipation before they can truly appreciate what is to come.


	7. Reminiscence

Chapter 7: Reminiscence

* * *

_I count myself in nothing else so happy, A in a soul remembering my good friends. _

_-William Shakespeare _

* * *

It was dark, very dark, but that was for sure since his eyes hadn't opened yet. "Fuck did I succeed?" he asked the air.

The response was brief but calming, a simple "Yes" sounded in his mind.

He kept his eyes closed for a few more moments, choosing to bathe in the blissful darkness, choosing to rest for a few seconds before returning to the cruel reality of the world.

Upon opening his eyes he surveyed the room before him and quite frankly was shocked at the destruction. The room couldn't be described as a great room anymore, it was littered with craters, broken trinkets, and an ocean of odd artifacts no one knows how to use. With a sigh Harry waved his phoenix wand and everything returned back to order barring of course the broken ones he cannot fix.

He looked at the back of his hand and grinned, the light emitting from the rune is clear sign he had succeeded in his task, did what he had been trying to do for days on end. It hurt like a bitch but at least he managed, the rune was his lifeline, it was his chance at beating that undead bastard, but of course at this moment in time he is just a homunculus that can't do anything but sit there, that's always a good thing.

Harry muttered a few curses and waved his wand, "_Tempus_," he spoke clearly waving his wand a bit, the figure that appeared showed '14:32', "Fuck," he muttered again, he just skipped a whole day of school, definitely suspicious, very, very suspicious.

Feeling extremely annoyed at his own incompetence of passing out Harry Potter walked out the door of the Room of Requirements not exactly human anymore.

* * *

"Where were you Harry" was the first thing he heard when he sat down for dinner at the Great Hall. The voice belongs to the resident librarian Hermione Granger, such an irritating and shrill voice.

He looked at the food in front of him, some stew and bread, then without looking up replied, "Busy with my own business" emphasizing the 'own' and the 'business' in hopes that Hermione would stop asking.

And as always she never stops, "You've been extremely secretive lately Harry, me and Ron are both worried about you…"

Ron nodded in agreement but Harry raised his hand to cut her off, "Notice I emphasized the 'own' and 'business'?" He asked well picking up his spoon and bread with each hand and started on his dinner.

Hermione was not deterred, "That's not fair Harry, we're both extremely worried about you, after the last escapade in Transfiguration you rarely bothered to show up in classes but today's the first time you disappeared for the whole day."

He just nodded to whatever she's saying, "I was busy."

"About what?"

"My own stuff."

"Hmmphhh." She gave a indignant huff as she started on her own dinner, it seemed as she was going to stop pestering Harry about what he's been up to lately, but she just can't let go of her curiosity, "So what were you doing again?"

Feeling extremely bothered and otherwise annoyed he continued to eat his stew and bread, "So what was taught today?" He asked in hopes of distracting her.

And it did distract her, at least from him, but not from making another rant, "Oh today we learned so many things, we continued to work on…" The young man definitely wasn't listening.

"So the resident celebrity finally decides to grace us with his presence," a slick and imitative voice sounded not far behind. Without even turning Harry knew who it was.

"Malfoy," he said without turning, there was no emotions in his voice.

Without an invitation Malfoy took a seat right beside Harry shocking just about everyone else at the table.

"If you're here looking for trouble Malfoy, I swear I'd…" Hermione started.

He didn't even bother looking at her, "Shut up mudblood, don't even speak in my presence.

"You little…"

Harry looked at her disapprovingly, "Just leave it Herms." Then turned to Malfoy, "Make it quick."

Malfoy just took some food and started eating, in between bites he said, "Well, Snape wants us to have the project done in two weeks," Harry just looked confused, "Right, you don't know what the project is."

They both looked at Hermione, who spoke on queue. "Professor Snape assigned an assignment two days ago about researching a potion out of a list of twenty-four potions…"

He didn't bother listening to the rest of her speech on the assignment, "So have you decided which potion we should research on?" He asked Malfoy while tuning out Hermione's rant.

"I thought the Draught of Living Death would be a nice choice," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"I thought that was a NEWT level potion? Overachiever much?" Harry asked with a disinterested tone.

If Malfoy was surprised at Harry knowing so much he did not show any emotions, "I thought it'd be good practice."

Hermione however looked surprised, "Are you implying you know or had brewed the Draught of Living Death?" She looked like someone just told her Santa was real, "You must tell me how, I've been trying to brew that potion for a while now, but every time I get to…" Frankly Harry wasn't really into potions.

He only muttered two words as the two became engrossed in a discussion on brewing potions, a phrase even Ron nodded to across the table munching on his bread, "Potion freaks."

* * *

It was a cold day when the whole school stood outside the doors of Hogwarts to watch the delegates of both Drumstrong and Beaubaxton arrive. Unfortunately Harry's already seen all there is to see but is standing out here just to be with the crowd and not do anything suspicious or at least more suspicious. Thus he had to suffer through both the cold of autumn chill and the woos and ahhs and dumb comments from his fellow peers. He remembered the event clear enough from his previous life, he remembered how he had also been one to stand in awe from the flying carriage and the submarine ship, he really couldn't blame those kids, they have less experience, it's natural from them to feel awe.

He quietly shuffled back into school along with the rest of his schoolmates, waiting for the feast and the foreign delegates' dramatic entrance, what he really didn't get was why Dumbledore didn't arrange for anything interesting, there was nothing to boast about, simply nothing but the students staring in awe at the other school's abilities.

"Did you see that Harry, the flying carriages, the underwater ship…?" Hermione asked from beside him, her voice again interrupting his train of thoughts.

Harry tried not to look annoyed but failed spectacularly, "I'm not blind Herms."

She had the dignity to look slightly apologetic, "Right, but Ron, didn't you think it was amazing that the carriage can fly in the air and the ship could suddenly rise from the waters…"

That kid was too inquisitive for her own good.

"Oh my, look at the time, it's almost time for dinner." Harry exclaimed loudly after casting a _tempus _charm that read 6:48, it immediately broke Ron's attention from Hermione's speech and made him suddenly more interested in dinner than magical transportation.

"I read in a book that…"

Harry interrupted impatiently, "It's time for dinner, not a lesson on magic transportation devices."

That however did not deter Hermione from talking to herself, "The book described a form of travel through leylines which is similar to portkeys, why didn't the students simply go through leylines, from the description, it was more efficient and speedy…"

No one was listening.

* * *

The welcoming feast started roughly an hour after the two foreign schools arrived. At this time Harry was sitting between Hermione and some fifth year Griffindor boy with Ron directly opposite of Hermione.

He sat there knowing that Hogwarts would simply get outmatched in terms of being theatric, he's already seen the entrances thousands of time times since during the war he would often visit some happy memories to keep himself sane. He often used Dumbledore's pensieve to look at some memories of the past, the most popular ones being this entrance, winning in quidditch, spending time with Hermione and Ron, and just being alive without a war to fight. It was really a blessing to have peace in one's life.

Just like he remembered the Beaubaxtons came in with Fleur Delacour leading and their conjured doves flying around. The Durmstrangs came in with their flames and Victor Krum taking the lead. Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum had been good people. Krum had been amongst the many agents foreign ministries sent to assist the English in their fight against the Dark Lord.

He had been a good man and respecting Hermione and Ron's privacy, of course, that was before he was brutally murdered by the Death Eaters after being captured in the Burrows Raid. The survivors of the raid claimed he ran in despite not being assigned in the protection unit and broke down when he saw Hermione's broken body. However, he didn't go down without a fight, igniting his own core and effectively obliterating just about everything in a sixty meter radius, leaving a large crater in what used to be The Burrows.

Fleur Delacour on the other hand had been found, effectively broken, and publicly executed to break the spirits of the Light. The unfortunate collateral damage had been Bill Weasley who had tried everything to save his beloved wife but had ultimately failed. Likewise he ignited his core and killed many people beside him.

It had become a normal practice to have jihad suicide bombers ignite their core in the heart of the enemy's den. It wasn't hard to do so and was one of the first things many people learned when they joined the new Order of the Phoenix. It worked by simply overloading one's bond between the wand and the core and creating an ignition that simply unleashes the powers within both the wand and the person, vaporizing everything besides the user. Many had died to such a tactic, many had sacrificed to utilize such tactic, it was a trade one for approximately twenty or thirty, but could not be used a lot since the light side did lack people in general.

Harry shuddered as he remembered hearing the news of his friends deaths. He had been resting when a messenger knocked on his door telling him Krum had committed suicide for a greater cause, he just got back from a sabotage mission when he heard about the Weasley couple. He remembered the trauma it had brought upon him when he heard his news, in fact, every death had impacted him in one way or another, he had almost given up hope, he had almost destroyed himself too, but he knew he had to survive, he had a prophecy to fulfill.

He never liked dealing with death, never had the heart to remember his friends, his loved ones, it simply pained him too much. He tried to avoid it, to work it off, to keep it off his mind, but he always knew, always remembered, always feared his nightmares and his subconscious reminding him of those tragedies, it was simply unbearable.

War had taken a toll on everyone, an even heavier one on Harry Potter. He blamed himself for every death, every failure, blamed himself and vowed to become stronger, pushed himself even harder for the sake of others, but sometimes it just wasn't enough. In the endings of the war Harry was on the edge of breakdown, constant magical exhaustion from training not from fighting, sleep depravation from fear of his dreams, and most of all the lost of hope, the only thing that kept them going for years.

War had taken his hope, his faith, his people, death had taken everything from him, creating a deep chasm in his heart that may not be filled even in the times of peace, a deep abyss that continues to consume him, suffocate him, trap him in the darkness.

* * *

"Harry what's wrong?" A familiar voice shook him back into reality.

He turned and looked into the brown eyes of a girl he had trusted most, trusted with his life, but in the end failed him and betrayed him. "N'thing, 'Mione."

She looked skeptical but did not push it further.

"Sweet Merlin, look at that." Ron looked in the direction of the Beaubaxton envoy with a dreamy expression.

"Ron, stop staring at the foreign delegates, it's not nice." Her scoldings fell upon deaf ears.

Harry looked bored and spoke to Hermione, "It's the veela charm, it's just like the World Cup, it's normal for people to be enthralled by the veela charm."

She looked surprised, "What about you?"

He gave her a smirk, "It didn't work then, it won't work now," and left it like that.

"Ron, your drool is seeping out," Hermione continued to scold Ron as he couldn't stop staring at Fleur Delacour.

"..."

"Rooonnnn, you must stop," she gave him a hard pinch to bring him back into reality.  
With a strangled yelp, "What the, Herms, what did you just do?"

She looked somewhat smug, "Just bringing you back to Earth."

"Argghhh..."

A small smile crawled up Harry's lips at the exchange. These two never change, never will, never can. Some things never change.

* * *

A/N

This dude said something about not mentioning Death Eaters in the review, like specific names and stuff, I answered him in PM but I might as well answer everyone the same question if someone has question, in fact there were a few questions so far.

**I read all six chapters. Your story is alright except the good guys are identified when they died but not the Death Eaters who died except Percy. Don't you know their names? Yaxley, Mulciber, Nott, Malfor Sr., Selwynn, Avery Crabbe, Goyle, Gibbons, Rowle, Alecto, Amycus, etc. It seemed none of the bad guys are dying.**

Well, I guess it's a legit question but well, the thing is the bad guys aint dying, if they are dying you wouldn't be losing rite?

**Someone PMed me about time being messed up in the beginning**

The thing is, to Harry he didn't bother remembering the time anymore like in the past, and when he first makes the jump his mental state was in shambles, so time is definitely not the prime concern for him, in the first chapter or so, i used seasons as years and time range in case you didn't know

**You're writing sux**

Yes my English isn't my first language so yeah, I'm not great, suck it up. I'm in AP english and stuff but you know, I have a theory on grammar "It's something you're born with, you're either good or you're shit, its not something easily learned," unfortunately, I'm one of those with shit grammar and I don't deny it.

That's all for now, if anyone has questions I'll answer it in A/N considering the fact there won't be much anyways, until next time


	8. Starting Anew

Chapter 8: Starting Anew

* * *

_"Remember today, for it is the beginning of always. Today marks the start of a brave new future filled with al your dreams can hold. Think truly to the future and make those dreams come true."_

_-Anonymous _

* * *

As far as he remembered, Harry Potter had always been alone. Ever since his birth he had no friends, when he grew older people stayed alway from him due to the Dursley's influence. The first time in his life that he had friends was when he arrived in Hogwarts, but those were just as said, friends. He may not have realized it during his stays in Hogwarts but when he did have time to think over his life he noticed his solitude. He had friends, indeed he had friends, a good amount of them in fact, but the truth is, he still distanced himself from them. It may be due to his early life traumas, but he always depended on himself. He did like company, it's great to have people around, but in the end, "if you want something done, do it yourself" had been his axiom throughout his whole life.

To him, friends were superficial, people were fickle things, even the most loyal can turn against you, sometimes for the most unimportant things like a coin. He rarely confided others with his problems, after all, it was his problems, he would ask others about the best plans for an ambush, but not on how to solve his own life. He never trusted another with his own feelings, especially most of them seemed to die left and right. It wasn't like he didn't like other people, he was no sociopath by any means, but what he had was an unhealthy fear of intimacy, a fear of being close to others.

He looked at his arms, his hands, his body. It was a body stained with blood, blood stained with hundreds, blood stained with thousands, blood stained with uncountable corpses. There were nothing to justify the blood spilled, war had a price, but it was not a war that should be fought, it was just the selfish desires of a few, a few that wished to take back their homeland, they could have abandoned England and had it done with it, but no, they had to fight. He almost regretted fighting, almost regretted fighting, but in the end he knew he would have had to fight anyways, his fate dictated his actions.

* * *

"Hey Harry," an obnoxious beaver-toothed girl said.

He turned around without showing much emotions, "Herms..."

"I've been thinking..."

"You think too much."

She glared for a while, "Very funny..."

Finally he looked up into her eyes, "So what's up?"

There was a moment of confusion, "Oh right, so yeah, as I was saying, I guess I'm sorry for being so forceful the past few days, I thought about it and your business is your business, I have no right to butt in on what you do in your free time."

"Glad you understand."

"Haha, I guess, so anyways, back to the topic, who'd you think will make the Triwizard Champion in Hogwarts?"

He scooped a spoonful of scrambled eggs and slowly placed it into his mouth, after swallowing, "Our school? I don't know, it really depends."

She smiled, "You're right, how could anyone guess the intentions of a magical instrument? Stupid me."

He smiled knowing how wrong she was.

* * *

"The Hogwarts Champion is...Roger Davies..."

He sat there stunned, this wasn't supposed to happen, it was supposed to be Diggory, this couldn't be happening, how could the past change? Thinking about it a little it's only logical the past can change, after all, his previous future had disappeared when he left, it is not wrong that the past could change, but what changed? How did it changed, if this changed, is there anything else changed? This is serious deep shit, what if it wasn't dragons for the task anymore, what if everything changed, the future just became clouded again, no go, this is really bad, he needed to think of a new plan.

* * *

"Mister Potter, did you put your name in the goblet?" Headmaster Dumbledore questioned with a cold glare, Harry remembered the past, Dumbledore was a bit more...supportive? It must be the joke he played the professor when he visited, he must suspect something, dang this really isn't his day.

"Ummm...no?"

"Zis boy muz be lying Dumbleledore..." A deep bellow sounded from Headmistress Maxime, "You muz explain zis master to me and Igor, we muz have a contingency plan, we will not stand for zis unfair competition..."

"I agree," the Bulgarian headmaster said, he must be grinning inside.

"A contingency plan? How do you propose to act?"

"Relight the goblet, and choose extra champions."

A coarse voice sounded in the room, "Impossible, you death eater scum, the goblet cannot be relit unless you risk the life of your boy toy, by relighting the goblet, you kill all existing champions for unfulfilled contract."

The Bulgarian looked a bit flustered, "Then what do you propose, Alastor?"  
"Do not speak my first name you trash, and how the hell in Morgana's ass would I know what to do about this political bullshit, think about it yourself, fuck you useless limp dick, you expect me to make a suggestion?"

A calm and gentle voice reverberated into the room, "Alastor...How about we select an additional champion from each other school who will not be bound by any magical contract."

The giantess replied after a moment of thought, "An excellent suggestion suggestion Dumbleledore...Fleur, go find Clara and ask if she would be willing to participate, if not go for Aurelie." With that the quarter veela left the room to find the designated students.

"Viktor, find Vladmir, he will be an excellent addition," Viktor quickly obeyed and left.

They all turned to look at you, the three pairs of glaring eyes each holding considerable power. Dumbledore was first to speak, "Mr. Potter, please explain how you were able to enter this tournament. Did you ask a older student to enter your name?" Harry shook his head. "Did you manage to get pass my age line?" Another shake.

"This is getting nowhere," Karkaroff injected in the middle of the questioning, "Severeus, get the veritaserum if you would."

The slick haired professor put his hand into his robe and withdrew a vial with clear liquid within. "Three drops?"

At this point Harry just laughed, drawing all the adult's heads towards him.

Professor Dumbledore looked at him with what seems to be concern, "What seems to be the matter Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at them with a fanatical glint in his eyes, "Three drops amongst friends? Why should I fear? Veritaserum? Is this the best you can do?" He did something even more daring, he stared right into Dumbledore's eyes.

There was a noticeable flinch from the aged headmaster as his student intentionally provoked him to use legilimency, why though he did not no, but the moment his probe entered the boy's mind he knew the truth.

"His mind is too well guarded, there is no reason to use veritaserum, it wouldn't work on him."

Karkaroff laughed, "Well guarded? A boy of what? 14 years old? You're zeal to defend your student astounds me Albus, you are bluffing, he has no shields, Severus, the veritaserum please."

The potion master hesitated before handing the vial to Karkaroff, "Three drops, you know the rules Headmaster."

"Indeed I do," he slowly uncorked the vial and with the dripper sucked up a few drops of the clear liquid. "Severus, restrain the boy." The potion master reluctantly held Harry's arms down, surprised there was no resistance.

"Bring it you shitty Death Eater," Harry taunted spitting his words out what what resembled disgust.

The Bulgarian Headmaster slowly pressed on the dripper allowing three drops to enter Harry's mouth, he then proceeded to wait for Harry to ingest the potion for the effect to take place. "What is your name?"

"Igor Karkaroff you useless shit." Moody chuckled in the background well the other esteemed headmasters gasped in shock.

He looked flustered, "Answer me, what is your name?"

"I already answered you shitty asshole, great, my interrogator is just a major dimwit."

"You insolent brat," All eyes were on the Headmaster as he made for his wand, Dumbledore was already making a draw along with Madame Maxime, but surprisingly, it was Harry that beat them all to the draw.

His eyes were indifferent, he glared right into the older man's eyes, it was the eyes of the butcher looking at meat, yes, just meat. Nothing more, nothing less, just like someone who had been butchering animals for years and is tired of it, the indifference.

It made Karkaroff stop in his tracks, stop in mid-draw as he felt terror, pure animalistic terror of a prey looking into the eyes of a predator, he knew at that moment if he drew his wand he'd be slaughtered, he'd be maimed at best and worse, he didn't want to think about it. That single moment conveyed the danger of facing this teen, the potential for a very devastating death.

A bolt of energy speared into Karkaroff from a distance away, all eyes turned to Mad-Eye Moody, who faked an innocent look, "What? Someone's gotta stop that Death Eater scum."

Bagman cleared his throat in the far distance, "Anyways..."

* * *

"Harry James Potter..." The high pitched voice annoyed the individual in question who was trying his best to avoid everyone, especially a particular someone named Hermione Granger.

He tried walking faster and maybe she'll stop asking, obviously his plan isn't working very well since she continued to follow him and cleared her throat ready to speak. "Harry James Potter, I'm talking to you..."

'Walk faster, walk fast, no, I'm not really here, ignore me,' he thought to himself. Obviously she didn't take the hint that Harry didn't really want to think about it.

"Stop walking so fast," she almost screamed and grabbed the sleeve of his robes, "Talk to me Harry."

He turned around and faked a look of surprise, "Oh Hermione, I didn't notice you were there."

She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow, "Oh please."

"So what do you want Herms, I am a busy champion you know."

"That's exactly what this is about."

"What?"

She crossed her arms, "Did you enter your name?"

It was his turn to lift his eyebrow, "Do I look like I did?"

"I dunno, you have been so...unpredictable this year it is impossible to tell."

He thought for a minute, "Well, I didn't even bother, believe me or not, that's your own choice, not mine, frankly, I don't really care, Ron doesn't seem like he believe me though."

She gave him a dry laugh remembering the scene Ron had made in the Common Room which was why she had left in the first place, "Yeah I don't think he believe you."

He gave a light shrug, "Understandable and predictable."

"How so?"

He gave her a look of surprise, "Don't tell me you didn't see it?"

"See what?"

"Man you're dim."

"Hey..."

"Jk, but still, he's filled with jealousy, envy...he's overshadowed by everyone around him, me, Charlie, Bill, Percy, even Fred and George, and the fact Ginny is the only female in the family isn't helping, I guess it isn't easy being him.

"You're right Harry, but still, doesn't give him the reason to be a prat."

"Anyhow...I believe you."

"Come again?"

She said louder, "I believe you didn't put your name in the goblet, that's so unlike you."

He smiled, "You're right, it isn't like me, but like you said, I'm unpredictable.

"You implying you actually placed your name in the goblet?"

He grinned again, "Your resolution Herms, you gotta be resolved in your choice."

"Fine fine, but still, I believe you."

Sensing the end of the conversation he started forward with Hermione following him, "Thanks Herms." He muttered.

"Come again?"

He continued walking, "Nah, I said you look like shit Herms."

She stopped and looked at herself seeing nothing wrong, "Harry James Potter, you stop right there..."

* * *

Igor Karkaroff was definitely not a happy man. A few days ago he was intimidated by a youngster, an insolent brat, and he drew his wand on the number one celebrity this side of the English Channel. He was definitely not having a good day, his reputation would have been ruined if anyone chose to leak what happened in the champion room, fortunately no one had, however, that boy was special, and he was determined to find out why. But first he had to deal with the tournament.

He put his wand on a transmission device on his mahogany desk, "Viktor, Vladmir, headmaster's office if you would." He walked to the back of his cabin and pulled three books from his personal library and waited for his champions to appear.

Not long later there was a knock on his door, checking the ward monitor hidden below his desk he saw his two star students. "Enter." His amplified voice rang through the room and also drifted outside, the two visitors allowed themselves in. "You wanted to see us Headmaster?"

With slow and deliberate motion he placed the three selected tomes on the desk, each tome had no title, just bound in cowhide decorated with gold and motioned them to inspect the tomes. Vladmir picked up the black book and flipped to its title page, 'The tale of Arthur Pendragon, the Dragonheart.' "King Arthur?" Vladmir asked in confusion.

Krum opened the white book 'Beowulf' one of the original tomes that still contained magic. "Beowulf?"

"What does King Arthur and Beowulf have in common?" Karkaroff asked the two students.

"They are both kings?" Vladmir questioned with doubts.

"Indeed they are but that's not it."

Krum looked as if a lightbulb was switched on, "They were both slayers."

"Slayers of what?"

"Magical creatures?"  
"Like?"

"I do not know as I have not read either." Vladmir replied.

"Arthur DRAGONHEART," He emphasized the Dragonheart, "Legends say King Arthur was half dragon from absorbing a DRAGON he once SLAYED, thus dragonslaying swords tend to have great effect on him."

Krum paled along with Vladmir. "Dragons...It can't be"

"It is, a contact in Romania has reported that several dragon handlers and a few dragons had been shipped off in cages not long ago, when it will arrive I cannot say, but it is safe to say the first task will be just that, Dragons."

"They must be insane, pitting students against dragons." Vladmir exclaimed which Krum agreed to.

"Are they really? But that doesn't matter, what matters is this, we know about the task we can prepare for it before hand, and by preparing you can vanquish your fears and emerge victorious. "

"I guess that is true, preparing is important, we will have an edge over the other champions, if we feel fear, the chances are high they will also feel fear when they hear the news."

Karkaroff smiled at Krum's deductions, "Indeed son, it will strike fear into their hearts and their resolutions will waver."

The professor instructed his students to read the three tomes and find an optimal solution to their 'dragon problem'.

* * *

A/N:

LOL :P I really don't care what people think, to me someone who talks a lot is definitely annoying, and Hermione definitely classifies as that

I'm actually not gonna bash her hard, she just gotta learn to talk less which she will eventually, Ron, well I have no plans for him yet

Personally I'm not really fond of a "saint Potter" cause really, its not human :P

So far it has been boring, and trust me, I'm bored too

**Rite, someone asked about something about silent casting? I really forgot who but it was a long time ago **

I've been thinking, rationalizing my answers but really, it depends on the author. I've never really hardcore read Harry Potter books, and the first FF i read was Deprived by Crimsonlord? I think that was his name, boy that one was good. Anyhow, he described Silent casting as like the epitome concentrations and stuff, discipline, in Deprived it mentions that silent casting was like super hard and not even adults were expected to really master it(OK i mite be twisting the authors words but u get what i mean:P) Anyhow, my version of silent casting is...you can cast some spells when you concentrate enough but in desperate times unless you are like super OP you'll just scream out the spell, it is a bit more intimidating i guess :P Anyhow, even mature wizards do say their incantations, it's just the movie that made silent casting super easy, even in the book they spoke their spells or it says smthign like "XXX sent a stunner at XXX" doesn't really say but whatever.

I think that's it, anyone with questions feel free to PM me, i may not upload a lot but i'll reply fast since I'm always on comp but too lazy to write

Anyhow, I'm sure some people would be like wtf is his reaction to Karkaroff? Well, he has been in war and he hates DE, thats the gist of it

Yeah, I guess I'm sorry I rushed the identity of the "THING" I didn't really want to originally, but a lot of people were complaining about the morbidity (is that even a word) so i decided to cut it down a bit, essentially Harry has changed over the war, and that's normal, he's no longer "saint Potter"

Right, anyhow, he's going to be OP Potter that messes up a lot cause he's gonna be using some pretty high skill-cap shit

**GOA:** I appreciate your support, ur like the only one that really has good things 2 say for all the chapters which is nice :P

Anyhow, I guess that's all, I'm planning on a month for my next update? Haha, maybe I'll make it faster if someone really wants it

-Wiltheavatar


	9. New Advances

Price of Change

Chapter 9: New Advances

* * *

_"He looked at the fallen figures of his friends, of what once was his family. The fallen building lay in front of him smothering in ashes, the Death Mark was suspended in the moonless sky. He bit back his tears, he cannot show his feelings, he must put on a mask, he has to be strong on the surface, his people needed his courage, they needed his strengths."_

_-Harry's memories_

* * *

"Harry," a cheerful summon called from behind.

With a swift step he turned around seeing his bushy haired friend, "Herms?"

"So how's the preparation with the first task coming along? Need any help?"

He looked at her with the a face that resembled 'you kidding me?'

"From your face I'm guessing no."

With a smile, "I got it under control."

"So how was the wand weighing ceremony?"

"Oh, nothing really happened, it was just..."

*Flashback*

"Mr. Potter, it is time for your wand weighing ceremony." A firm voice with a tinge of Scottish accent sounded not far behind him, turning around he stood face to face with Professor McGonagall.

He lifted an eyebrow, "Is it now?"

"The headmaster may tolerate your lack of discipline but you will find me not so generous with my patience."

Harry chose to ignore her and just kept walking on towards the designated room for the wand weighing ceremony with the flustered professor following not far behind him.

"Eleven inches Holly wood with Phoenix Tail Feather, nice and supple." Ollivander looked at the wand a bit more than usual but handed it back to Harry anyways, "It's in working condition, well kept too." He gave a small smile to but to Harry it was obvious the smile was strained.

"Is there anything wrong?" Harry asked quietly.

"Later," was the only reply before Ollivander made a motion for him to move and the ceremony continued.

Upon the completion of the ceremony Harry approached Ollivander again. "Mr. Ollivander, is there a problem with my wand?"

The aged man looked at Harry for a while then motioned for his wand which Harry complied. Stroking it a few times he began, "Your wand is no longer a good fit for you Mr. Potter."

"Say what?"

"I said, Mr. Potter, that your wand no longer suits your needs."

"Yeah I heard that, but what? Why?"

Ollivander paused for a minute to gather his breath, "You see, your wand is no longer compatible. It still can cast like any other wand but your ability to synchronize; for a lack of better terms, is lacking."

"Synchronize?"

"That's not the right term, but it's like the a compatibility with your wand, the more compatible the more you can bring out both your core and your wand core's potential."

"So my compatibility is lacking."

The wrinkles on his forehead became more evident for a slight moment before continuing, "It's more like you are not becoming more compatible with your wand. At first when you first bought your wand from me you were so compatible with the phoenix wand. Ones ability to be compatible with his or her wand will continue to grow the more they cast from the wand, but from what your wand exhibits the rate is growing stale and slow."

"Does it affect my ability in any ways?"

"Your spells will be as strong as your normal casts, it will not get weaker, but at the same time it will not get any stronger. If you wish to progress, then your wand will be a hindrance to your abilities, you growth will be limited, your advancements in our branches where you are not well experienced in will be greatly halted."

"Is there a chance to optimize my performance? Wait, let me rephrase, what is the cause of this change, you did mention I had a high compatibility rate when I first purchased the wand."

The old man again stopped, then resumed, "There are many reasons why a wizard slowly stops being compatible with their first wand, in fact, it isn't uncommon at all for a wizard or witch to become incompatible, it is just rare for us to change since it is within our culture to try and stay with one wand for as long as possible. In fact, in many other magical societies I visited during my travels, people were not as attached to their own magical conduits, in fact, many could cast spells without wands, but the nature of their magic is vastly different from ours, utilizing inner powers to catalyze energy instead of gathering it from different dimensions like our wands do."

"So if I change wands I'll get better?"

"In theory yes, but the prerequisite is that you need to find another wand suited for you or at lease one that has the potential to become stronger."

"I shall heed your advice then, Mr. Ollivander."

"Good to hear Mr. Potter."

* * *

He was in the white room again, the same white room he had visited not long ago and met him.

"Is there a way to solve the issue?" Harry asked the figure in the middle of the room.

"There is a way," the shadow spoke after moments of silence.

"There is?"

"It depends how dark you are willing to go."

Harry took a moment to consider his choices, 'just how dark is the demon implying?'

But after his "careful" considerations, the need for an effective wand is just too great. "Tell me"

The figure pointed with its decaying hands of bones and flesh, it seemed charred, without much sinews left, but Harry decided not to comment. A book slowly materialized in front of the outstretched fingers, the human reached out slowly to hold the book in his hands. Then he felt it, the intense pressure of the tome, the immense darkness the book held. He could feel it without any heightened senses, it weighed so much the human even hesitated before steeling himself and quickly grappling the grimoire out of the air. Upon examination the old tome seemed to be covered by…skin.

"It's human hide," Naberius answered without Harry needing to ask.

"Human?" It was rather disturbing, but Harry had seen his share of weird dark tomes and human hide really wasn't the worst he has seen.

The cover was black with white writings, after a few moments of deciphering the ancient demontongue which he learned from Naberius's help combining most ancient European languages like Gaelic, Latin, Raetic, Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, and some others Harry had learned in his previous life. The title read 'Life-make' in rough translations, now it would be more of 'Necromancy. '

"Necromancy really?" He asked nobody in particular.

There was a slight chuckle from the figure, "Use it well."

* * *

It was slow, an andante slowly picking up into allegro,. But despite speeding up it was still slow to begin with. There was a long wait before he finished uttering the incantation, a long, silent pause before any affects were noticed.

He thought he had done it wrong, but he didn't know what was wrong. He had done everything exactly as the tome specified, a further glance at the page showed his runes were written perfectly, there should have been no problems. His Latin pronunciations had almost no problems either, or so he believed, but in this case he was right, the only problem was this spell took ages to "happen."

As if on queue the land shuddered, his wand finally reacting, reacting by glowing extremely red. There was a pulse of energy in the air, the Earth seemingly rippled under the extreme pressure his spell pressed to the ground. The Earth seemed to sway up and down as pulses of energy entered the crust from Harry's magic circle as the epicenter, shuddering, swaying, moving in an impossible up and down motion. "Finally." Harry muttered to himself as he held the arcane tome in one hand and quickly flipped it to a page with its edge folded in. "Aha, here…Resurgere a vestra fictili somnos, o magna heroes ac magnis suspicionibus benedicite mihi cum tui gratiam avatars, magno bellatores retro temporum, ministret mihi militis mei, mea tornis, gladium meum, scutum, lancea per inimicos meos rium cordis mei, et sta victoriam."

Having finished the second part of his spell he pocked his tome and drew a silver dagger from his robes and made a quick slash on his palm. After his motion there was a healthy cut on his left palm allowing the blood to gush out freely. Flipping his hands over and holding it in front of him Harry allowed a steady stream of blood to fall onto the ground covering specific runes he had drawn within the inner circle.

It took a while to cover all the specific runes but after he had done so he used a wandless healing charm to heal himself then revered to waiting. He waited for something to happen, something should be happening, and he was sure something will happen.

The wind picked up around him on the outer edges of his circle. His circle was in fact two circles, an inner circle and an outer circle all adorned with many runes, the inner circle remained clear and uneventful well the outer circle continued to pulse.

The wind seemed to whisper things into Harry's ears, things he couldn't hear clearly just teasing in and out of effective hearing range. The deep murmur resonated in the dry air around Harry, the tranquility of his inner circle slowly being pervaded by the deep whispers of the slowly increasing vortex.

With a flash of light the outer circle flared to life, each carefully drawn rune igniting in a multitude of colors, each line and arc emitting eerie laminations that easily contrasted with the darkness of the forbidden Forest. Why the forest one might ask, but the reason is simple, there are a few places the Hogwarts wards simply do not reach, what better place to start a bit of forbidden magic than the Forbidden Forest?

With each passing second the whispering grew louder, more comprehensible, with each passing second the lightshow grew brighter. Energy fluctuated wildly within the circles, the wind and dense air picking up into a full blown vortex that tore apart the tranquility of a night at in the forest.

He could almost pick up faces in the tornado of colors, almost pick up mourning faces of people he have never met. Harry could see flickers of a person's face in agony before it disappeared back into the vortex, he could see the complexions of different races, Asian, European, African, etc.

Then there was silence. The unhealthy stillness of the forest, the unnatural silence that threatened to devour all evidence that the previous events had occurred. But the surrounding gaps flickered, tiny wisps at first slowly illuminating, slowly expanding into the forms of large human silhouette. Then further solidifying into ethereal men, ethereal warriors, dead and decomposed ethereal warriors. The figures were a cross between skeletons and flesh, caught between different stages of decomposition, a skeleton with bits of skin and sinew still attached to them, sometimes missing a limb or two.

They were all dressed in full body armor, the ancient warriors all stood with hard to read complexions due to some missing their faces thus missing facial expressions. Each stood tall, each one was intimidating, each one knew they could fight and kill in another battle any day, all were hailed heroes and champions of their time.

The circle of ancient warriors looked at the wizard, and Harry looked right back at them without flinching. None spoke, there was only silence. But like all silence, it has to be shattered, "Human," the word was said with derision and scorn, "You are treading dangerous grounds." The medieval European knight with half his face missing talked, but the voice came from everywhere.

There was an effect that represented echoes, it was as if they were unified and speaking at the same time. The multitude of voices, different tones, different voices, every difference deeply distinctive yet unified at the same time.

There was no panic in Harry's response, no trace of anxiety whatsoever, a deed that should be applauded since he was facing a group of grown and dead warriors. "Obey me, those who have answered my summons, obey the laws." His voice was filled with authority. No longer the scared fourteen years old but a twenty years old warrior. A grown man who commanded an army to fight an indomitable foe, a grown man who has seen both sides of the coin of defeat, a grown man numb to death from his life in continuous warfare.

The ethereal warriors were not impressed, this time the samurai seemed to speak but as previous speech they all seemed to talk at the same time, "Insolent human. You wish to command us? How foolish, a mere human believing he can command the war council. Tell me human, what stops us from ripping you apart right now?"

"Foolish? I think not. My summons echoed into your world from mine, you crossed the worlds into mine, I repeat, 'MINE', you cannot disobey me here warrior or not, you cannot hurt me, the very laws of this plane binds you to me, its chains restrains you, not me my dear deads, but the very laws of this universe."

The spirits flashed angrily, illuminating the outer circles but unable to penetrate the bindings, Harry knew the matter had already been settled.

"Be my sword and my shield, smite thy enemies and fight thy foes, be my knight and my rook, and together we will war and obtain victory."

"He speaks the truth…" The spirits murmured to themselves, "There is no choice…Master…we the war council pledge our loyalty to our king and present you our allegiance. Your friend is our allies, your enemies is our foes, we are your sword and your shield, your wish is our command."

* * *

A/N

the latin google translated from this

"Rise from your earthen slumbers, oh great heroes and great worries, bless me with the grace of your avatars, the great warriors of the past times, serve me as my knight, my rook, my sword, my shield, lance through my enemies' hearts and stand by me and reach out for victory" I'm not sure how accurate it is but oh well, cest la vie.

And the bashing is over from this chapter on as some might be glad, well at least with Hermione although I'll probably still mention Harry finding her annoying at times...Ron will get better after Harry stops being influenced by his past memories of Ron being a coward and hiding during the wars

That's it, I've always loved necromancy and I do hope I can expand on necromancy, actually I already planned on his new cool wand

Anyone can PM me if they please and yes I apologize for shit grammar and such

I changed it :P:P:P:P compatible-ness became compatibility, forgive my mistake


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